Heir to the Empire
by PryzmKess
Summary: Complete Trunks story. The throne of Vegetasei has a false queen, and the heir is not the true child of the bondright. What happens when a slave rises to claim his birthright?
1. Author's Foreword

I sit on the precipice, ready to hurl myself back into the chaos of reviews, feedback, critiques, self-doubt and pure wonder.  I know that Grand Prix was next on the list, but Heir to the Empire kept butting forward and writing itself, demanding to be shared with all.

I honestly don't know if you will like this.  It is my first AU DBZ, and it is a big 'un (as I prepare this foreword, I have 12,000+ words, and I have just finished character establishment).  I have taken extreme and (I'm sure to some unnecessarily) outrageous directions with this fiction.  

In short, I wanted to try my hand at world-building; at creating a place and society in my mind that I could then describe to the readers.  And what better world is there than Vegeta-sei?  I have fleshed out the Saiyan world, and have made some social changes to liven things up.  It is the same planet that we love to enslave Bulma on, but I have fleshed it out, so to speak.

This is also a Trunks story, not a Bulma/Vegeta story.  If you want to get the background for this story, read any of the AUs where Bulma ends up as a slave on Vegeta-sei, then stop before you get to the happy ending.   Aren't I evil?

Some notes before I start:

I do not own the world of DBZ, I have just horribly mangled it for my own devilish delight.  All of the characters normally protected by the DBZ copyright are not mine, and I make no claim to them. Lord Vegeta will always refer to the eldest Vegeta, the father of the OU Prince Vegeta.  Later, he might answer to Grandfather, if he's in a good mood. King Vegeta is our current lovable prince in the original universe.  He is also not as nice as he is in DBZ, though it would be fairer to call him confused. Prince Vegeta is the current heir, a full-blooded Saiyan. Cyrane is pronounced SIGH-rain or KI-rain, depending on the dialect of the speaker. Avia is pronounced ah-VEE-ah or ah-vee-AH, again depending on dialect. Kakkarot will not play a major part.  Yes, I know, he is the first SS and I will honor that in other stories, but not this one. Avia, Cyrane and this version of Prince Vegeta are my characters, and I ask that you ask before copying them.  I place no claim to Prince Vegeta's name, however, just his description and personality.  The Montessi are also my own, as is the hare-brained logic behind them, but I give them to the DBZ world freely. 

Rated: R for violence, language and sexual content.  This is not a lemon, nor will it ever be; while things might get a touch hot, it will always be to further a scene.  Also, there will be discussions and allusions to sex and sexual situations, including rape, incest, and other material that will not be suitable or enjoyed by all audiences.  Please do not flame me if you get upset at content in my work; I will not acknowledge emails and reviews claiming that I can not do it because "that's not right!"  Right and wrong are highly overrated and completely subjective, and I will not decrease the scope of my story because someone else is squeamish.  If you find something in here truly objectionable, please bear with me.  I will try to make all right in the end.

And lastly, some of you will not like the liberties that I have taken; some of you will, but overall I hope that you enjoy the story itself.  As always, I welcome rational critiques and reviews, but remember, if you flame, I get to make fun of you.  Thanks as always for reading.

Pryzm the Kess


	2. Prologue

The author of this book is a liar.  Is the gentle reader shocked by my assertion?  Let me assure you, it is true, as is this: the author is also a fool who seeks to rewrite our history according to his fantasies.  Do not succumb to his lies.

There are many who believe that this book should be destroyed; indeed I myself wish it could be so.  Then why do we have the book still?  Because to destroy all copies is an impractical task; there are many would protect the book just because we were trying to eradicate it, not to mention those who _believe its fantasies.  So instead, we have a policy of regulation to control who will be allowed to read it.  In compliance with all Saiyan laws, you must have filled out Form SYH-20113, and have a completed SYPH-9023 with the attached Certification of Psychiatric Wellness.  When you return this book, you will be required to sit in another psychiatric session. If you have not complied with any of these demands, you are reading this fictional account illegally.  Under the decree of the rule of King Vegeta in the Year of 1048 A.T., the punishment for reading this document illegally is death.  _

Perhaps, dear reader, you are wondering why all the precautions for just a silly little story.  Is not this story merely a harmless fairy tale, a story of darker times of the Saiyan Empire?  No, for our enemies use it against us, and dissents from within use it to stir up rebellion.

Just remember your true history as you read it, and do not be swayed by the lies within.  Always remember this: _the author lies._


	3. Chapter 1 A Funeral

A cold wind blew off the dark ocean, chilling the two beings standing on the beach.  The stars glimmered coldly overhead, their chill light paling by the minute as moonrise grew closer.  The breaths from the two men fogged as they left their mouths, the cold of the night deepening as it grew later.

The Saiyan fought to keep from shivering; to do so in front of this slave would be humiliating, particularly as the lad didn't seem to feel the cold.  The young boy stood calmly, his frame unshaken by shivers or cold bumps.  The Saiyan growled under his breath again as his skin tightened more with the cold, bumps rising on his skin.

The horizon began to glow with a green light as the moon grew closer to rising.  Finally, the first edge of its outermost ring broke the horizon, casting everything around in shades of green, yellow and blue.  The Saiyan nearly said something, but his brother's words stopped him again, as they had all night.  _"It must be tough to lose your mother," Kakkarot's voice echoed sadly in his mind.  "Remember how upset we were when Mother died?"_

_Kakkarot has infected me with weak compassion_, Raditz thought angrily as he once again gave in to his absent brother's words.  With a shiver, he stuck his hands under his arms while stomping his cold feet, throwing pride to the freezing winds.  _Why did I have to get this duty?_  Really, though, he knew why.  His father owned the slave in question, and his commander disliked the third-class scientist's clout; not every third-class could request that a Guardsman slave-sit for him and be granted the request.  The commander might have chosen Kakkarot for this duty, but Raditz had been picked because he had made soft eyes at Kiwini again, and her father, who just happened to be a friend of his commander's, had found out.  So Raditz got to watch some damned slave inter his damned mother just because his father was a third-class scientist who wasn't _worthy_ of a second-class's daughter.  By all the gods, this duty was for a new guard or an idiot like Kakkarot, not a warrior of Raditz's prowess!

Glancing up at the rising moon, he noted that the top sweep of the moon's ring had cleared the horizon.  Fighting to hide his chattering teeth, Raditz said, "The moon's up.  Get this show on the road."  

"The moon is not up yet," the boy replied, his voice as cold as the night.  "Master Bardock said that I was released from my duties until after the moon is up."

Raditz winced, the movement causing his cold-tightened skin to hurt.  "I know what my father said," he growled, emphasizing his relationship to the boy's owner.  The boy took his eyes from the horizon at last, turning to stare at the Saiyan guarding him.  Despite himself, Raditz felt his tail shiver with fear at the gaze of the boy before him; even his pride couldn't fight off the sensation that he had angered a terrible force.

"Master Bardock prized my mother above all his slaves," the boy spat out, heat burning in his voice as his anger inflamed his words.  "He said that I should take all the time I needed to honor her.  Do you repute his words?"  The lad's tone was dangerous, and his unnatural blue eyes glinted darkly in the dim light.  

Normally, Raditz would have laughed at this slave using this tone – he was always amused when they tried to act like Saiyans.  But there was something about this boy, something about the way that the green and blue moon rose behind him and shadowed his features made the slave seem a terrible and awful creature.  "Just do it before we freeze!" he snarled, his eyes dropping as he fought the urge to power up.  _It would be warmer_, he told himself as he started to call the ki to himself.  _I'm not afraid of him!_  He ignored the fact that he had also backed up a step, moving away from the boy.

He nearly ran into the person behind him; only Saiyan reflexes kept him from knocking against his brother, Kakkarot.  "By the gods!" Raditz snapped, trying to cover his momentary, unbecoming startle.  "What are you doing here?"

"Father asked me to come down here, once he found out that you had this duty," Kakkarot answered, his voice carefully neutral.  Raditz locked his face into as dispassionate an expression as he could manage; by sending Kakkarot, Father was implying that Raditz wouldn't – or couldn't – do his duty properly.

"Fine, you freeze your tail off," Raditz snarled and shot up into the air, glad to be away from the cold, cold beach.  And from the frightening boy, though Raditz would never admit that the lad was anything other than strange in the head.

Kakkarot watched until his brother was gone, then moved to stand next to the boy.  "Hiya, Trunks," he said, his normally cheerful voice subdued.  "Are you doing ok?"

"Not really," the boy answered coldly, though he was happy that Kakkarot was there instead of Raditz.  Of all the members of Bardock's family, Kakkarot was the kindest; he had taught Trunks some self-defense so that he could defend himself from other slaves, and he had been almost kind to Bulma.  Trunks was sure that if Bulma could have picked one Saiyan to be at her funeral, she would have chosen the youngest son of Bardock's house.

Kakkarot sighed and dropped a friendly arm onto Trunks' shoulders, noting how cold the boy was.  He struggled for the right words, not wanting to inflame the lad's already turbulent emotions, but his Saiyan upbringing didn't allow for many gentle words of comfort.  Normally Kakkarot could offer visions of revenge, but that was not an option for a slave, and Kakkarot wasn't sure what he could say instead.  He finally had to settle for offering his presence and his warmth on this cold night.

The moon crept higher in the sky and finally the bottom edge of the ring cleared the ocean's edge.  With a shuddering sigh, the boy stepped forward, moving away from Kakkarot's warm presence.  It was time; he could delay no longer.

As he held the small plastic urn, he knew that this was it – there would be no other chances for good-bye, no comforting thoughts of what he could do for his beloved mother on the night of her burial.  His hands shook with cold and grief, but he secured one hand around the base of the urn, and slid his thumb under the pop-up tab.  With a deft flick of his wrist, he opened the lid and stared inside.

A fine gray powder was nestled inside the plastic container and, staring down at it, Trunks felt a sudden surge of rage.  A plastic urn, when she should have had an ivory tomb!  Cremation, when she should have been entombed with honors!  An unnoticed burial on the beach, when the entire empire should have been mourning for weeks to come!  But this was all she had, and the only Saiyan here did not deserve his anger.

"Vegeta-sei looses its greatest treasure today," he said in a choked voice to Kakkarot.  He hurled the open container in an arc high into the air, where the cold winds quickly grabbed the ashes and pulled them away while tumbling the urn into the sea.  "We bury its queen, and nobody knows but you and me."

"I know that your mom was special to you," Kakkarot began, but Trunks stopped him with an up-held hand.

"No, not just to me," he growled angrily.  "This whole fucking planet should be weeping in its knees, and we're the only ones here.  We are the only ones who know."

"Come on, Trunks," Kakkarot said soothingly, gathering the boy to his side.  "Let's go inside, now.  You need to get warm, and to rest."

Trunks allowed Kakkarot to lead him away, and the Saiyan quickly forgot his words as grief-borne ravings.  But it is said that the stars hear all things said under the night sky, and that they whisper the secrets of the night to the gods.  And if the Vegeta-sei gods are one thing, all agree they are cruelly just.


	4. Chapter 2 A Memory

Bardock shifted on his feet uncomfortably as he mentally rehearsed his petition.  Normally, he would not be so nervous before the King, but the events of four days ago combined with the uncomfortable cut of his best bodysuit had him off-balance.  And the knowledge that he was asking the King to violate all custom and law for a mere slave was weighing heavily on his mind.

No, not a mere slave, Bardock thought, his heart filled with an emotion unfamiliar to a Saiyan: guilt.  Bulma had been the best scientist he had ever known; though he could not tell it to any Saiyan, everyone in the lab had known.  She was brilliant.

She had been brilliant.  And he had failed her, failed to protect her.

He grimaced as guilt that was almost painful stabbed him again before he pushed the feeling aside.  He was here to redress that guilt, not dwell on it.  And the King bloody well owed him a favor.

Bardock's eyes closed as he remembered that night less than four days ago, when the call had come late in the night to come to the palace immediately, that the King was ill.  He had flown as fast as he could, racing to his liege's side…

_King Vegeta was thrashing in his bed, his sweating body pale and cold.  Tears raced down the royal cheeks as Bardock grabbed his liege's hand, feeling for the pulse below the thumb.  It was thready and weak, and Bardock realized that his King was dying.  But how?  His Majesty was the strongest Saiyan ever, the Legendary.  What could bring him down in the prime of his life?_

_Bardock's__ eyes widened as he realized the only thing that could cause this premature death.  "Find the Queen!" he shouted at the guards, one of whom dashed out of the room without hesitation.  Bardock turned back to the bed, his hand fumbling for his communicator.  If the Queen could be found and saved, then the King would have a better chance of recovery.  But Bardock would need special equipment for this, and Bulma was in the lab tonight.  She could have it here quickly._

_"Bulma," he clicked the communicator.  "Pick up; I need you to bring something to the palace.  Hurry and pick up!"_

_"She's isn't there," King Vegeta gasped weakly.  "She's gone, and I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.  I always realize too late with her."  He broke into a weak cackle._

_"Rest, your Highness," Bardock murmured, the King's words rambling babble to the scientist.  "I'll have medicine here for you soon."  He thumbed the communicator again.  "Bulma, answer me now!"_

_"Even now, I don't regret bonding her," Vegeta whispered, his eyes staring emptily at the ceiling.  "But I'm sorry that I did it to her.  I loved her, but not more than my crown; I denied our bond.  What kind of man does that make me?"  A sudden tremor wracked his body, and the King convulsed.  Bardock helped hold him down, his anger at Bulma growing.  Why was she ignoring his call?  The communicator was grafted into her hand; she couldn't turn it off or adjust the volume.  What was she up to?_

_When the convulsions passed, he grabbed his communicator again and switched channels.  "Towton, pick up!"_

_His Saiyan lab assistant picked up immediately, his voice thick with sleep.  Bardock barked out what he needed from the lab, praying that the short man would be quick enough.  If Bulma's laziness cost the King his life, Bardock would beat her himself, despite his earlier praises for her._

_The Queen swept into the room, her night robe billowing out behind the dark queen like wings, and Bulma was put out of the third-class's mind.  Her Majesty was completely uninjured and Bardock gaped at her, unable to hide his surprise.  As weak as the King was, he would have said that his bond-mate was dying or dead herself.  But there she was, stalking toward the bed, her strange, unsettling eyes sweeping over the sick King.  "Vegeta?" she murmured, her face concerned.   Bardock was glad that she was preoccupied with the King's well-being; he did not want her to ask him why he was staring._

_"Get away from me," Vegeta snarled, his voice cold and cruel.  "If I die, I want to die without you hanging over me like a black cloud."_

_The Queen's face twisted into an ugly snarl.  "So your betrayal catches up with you at last," she hissed, snatching her robes shut as if they could protect her from the King.  "You suffer, and even now when you are so weak you can't feed yourself, you embarrass me!  Me who has done nothing but suffer shame and loss for you!"_

_"Guards!"__ Vegeta summoned the energy to scream.  "Get this woman out of here."_

_"I hope that harlot drags you into Oblivion with her soul!" the Queen growled with as much dignity as she could conjure.  The guards had moved toward her, but she ignored them, sweeping out of the room as if they were escorting her instead of extracting her.  The Prince and the Princess were in the doorway watching with wide eyes; the Queen gathered them to her with a sharp gesture.  Vegeta's daughter followed without a backwards glance at her dying father; the Prince hesitated but finally left with his mother._

_As the King sank wearily onto his bed, Bardock finally remembered to close his mouth, his teeth snapping shut with a click.  From what had been said, there was only one explanation, but could he believe it?_

_He stared down at the weak King, working through the facts to the only possible conclusion.  The King was not – had not been – bonded to the Queen, but to another woman, a woman who had died tonight.  Anger roared through Bardock again, but this time, it was directed at his King.  How could he risk the throne this way?  How could the King allow Prince Vegeta to be named heir when he was not born from a bond-mating, but from a mere coupling?  The entire reason to risk binding your soul to another's was to take advantage of the gods' gift to the Saiyans, to be assured that any children born of that union would have the best possible traits from both parents.  A child from a coupling had no such assurances, and got all his or her genes by circumstance, not divine gift.  Bardock paled as he realized that the prince-heir was not the perfect combination of his parents, but a haphazard mixture of genetics.  That was a weakness which the Empire could not afford; worse, the true bond-child of the King was somewhere on the planet, as bond-matings always produced at least one child.  Was that child older than Prince Vegeta?  With the royal family's legacy from the gods, if the child was older, it was surely male, which meant that the true prince-heir was unknown and unnamed._

_Bardock quickly shook his thoughts away.  The best way to deal with this disastrous problem was to save the King's life so that worries about ascension could be put off for another day.  As if the King was trying to spite him, his heart stopped at that moment.  With a gasp, Bardock straddled the King's lower body, planting the ball of his hand on the King's ribs.  Desperately, he pounded out a steady rhythm, forcing the King's heart to beat, forcing him to live._

_It seemed years that Bardock struggled there, compelling blood to move throughout his Lord's body, powering air into his lungs.  Towton's arrival was so sudden that Bardock almost lost the life-rhythm; he managed to continue and bark out the needed medicine in the needed doses.  Towton handed him the prepared syringe and Bardock slammed it into the King's chest, the thick needle piercing the sternum to empty into his heart._

_The result was immediate and spectacular.  The King sat up, knocking Bardock backwards across the room, and powered up to Super-Saiyan.  The metal needle in his chest boiled away from the heat; the plastic syringe shattered from the pressure.  _

In the end, the King had been grateful; he had not wanted to die.  Not everyone caught in a bond-mate's death wanted to die as well, but it was often unavoidable. Bardock was sure that the King was alive only because he was so incredibly powerful.

"Bardock, Third-class," the Court Caller's voice cut through Bardock's memory, and he shook himself out of the reverie.  He quickly stepped out of the crowd of court petitioners, and moved to the center of the open area before the throne.  He swiftly dropped to his knees, then folded his hands between his legs and pressed his forehead to the floor.  It was the proper position to assume when one came begging favors from the King, but even the knowledge that it was the proper thing to do could not stop the spurt of shame and irritation that ran up his spine.  He might be a third-class scientist, but he was still a Saiyan.  It irritated any warrior to snivel on the ground like a cropo begging for scraps of food.

He had barely settled into position when King Vegeta's voice rumbled out.  "Rise Bardock," his voice rang solidly in the massive chamber; the harmonics of the room favored those on the dais.  Bardock was a touch surprised, but also pleased.  Usually the King forced petitioners to remain in that position for several seconds.  To be called to his feet so quickly meant the King was pleased with him, and would be far more likely to grant his request.

Bardock swiftly rose and faced the King and Queen.  The King was slouched in his chair, as he normally was, as if Court was too boring to occupy the King's full attention.  But Bardock would be the first to say that that was all a ruse on the King's part – he paid close attention to the ebbs and swells of court politics.  Any King who wished to rule for any amount of time kept a close eye on his nobles.  The Queen was sitting straight and stiff in her own, slightly smaller chair.

"You have served me well, and my father before me," King Vegeta continued, ignoring the rustling and murmuring from the assembled courtesans.  Vegeta was probably used to the awkward and somewhat scandalized reaction to any mention of his father, but his subjects weren't still weren't; Bardock himself was uncomfortable with the thought of the former king, even after eighteen years.  "There is no need to plead for a favor from us."

The Queen's stony expression clearly said that she didn't agree, but given that Bardock's service had revealed her shame to people outside the family, and to a third-class at that, Bardock didn't expect her to be happy about the King granting his request.  He eyed the dark-skinned Montessi, wondering again why the King had chosen this woman from the savages of the mountains as his mate.  He realized with a frown, perhaps he hadn't chosen her as his mate, and that was the problem.  What if she had been selected to distract people from rumors of a secret mate?


	5. Chapter 3 A Hope

When she didn't immediately agree, the King turned to his wife, his expression clear.  The Queen's agreement was traditionally sought, though her concord was really a formality.    "Yes," the Queen finally granted, her golden eyes paled to buttermilk by the burning sunlight slanting in through the high windows. "You should be rewarded for your service, Third-class Bardock."  Her voice was gracious, but those disquieting eyes burned with irritation.

"Thank you, Your Majesties," Bardock said, clasping his hands to his chest and giving each throne a bow.  With the formalities done, he gathered his thoughts and began his request.  "Your Majesties, four days ago, one of my slaves was killed," Bardock said, and to his surprise, the memories from that night came back to him in a flash of pain and guilt.

_Bardock slapped angrily at the doorplate, his rage at his human slave boiling over.  She had nearly cost the King his life, and when he saw her!  He didn't finish the thought; instead he stepped into the lab and hit the light switch._

_Trunks raised his head as the light flashed on, bathing the scene in merciless brightness.  His mother was in his arms, her clothes bloody and torn.  Bardock froze in shock unable to stop staring at the slaves.  Bulma's gravity harness was torn off of her chest, and hung from one shoulder, it mechanism destroyed.  Her eyes were closed, her skin remarkably clean; he realized that Trunks was holding a bloody washcloth in his clenched fist.  "I found her," he said, and then he choked as the tears began to run anew down the boy's face.  _

_"Trunks," Bardock said gruffly, stopping when he heard the emotional tremble in his own voice.  _

_"I took samples," Trunks said through soft sobs waving the washcloth at the trays on the next table, "from just about everywhere on her.  But I can't… I think that they… I can't finish, Bardock.  I can't, I can't!"  The boy brought his clenched fist to his face and began to cry in earnest, his tears too thick to speak through._

And Bardock had stood there, knowing that he could collect all the samples in the world from Bulma's body, he could supply pounds of forensic evidence, and there would still be nothing that he could do for either human.  It was the law, but the King surpassed the law, and that was why Bardock was here.

Bardock quickly cleared his throat, hoping that the King would take his hesitation as a tickle in his throat rather than the flood of emotion that the memory created in him.  "She will be difficult to replace, My Lord.  She was exotically beautiful, very intelligent and highly skilled.  She had produced one child, proving that she was capable of reproducing healthy children.  I will never find another slave with her intelligence or knowledge base again.  And she was a gift for service from a former King.  In short, I cannot name a price for redress with any ease.

"She was killed while I was away on Royal Business," he continued, clearing his throat against emotional clench still hiding there.  "I came home to find that she had been assaulted and killed.  Her attackers were merciless with her, My Lord and Lady.  They ripped her gravity harness from her, leaving her to the mercies of our higher gravity.  They didn't let her pass on peacefully first, either; they raped her as she died, crushed by the weight of her own chest, unable to draw breath or even move."  Bardock paused, letting his words settle over the court.  He was not giving details so that the King would be swayed by sympathy, but so that he could make him realize that his property had been cruelly and unjustly killed.  

The King was still slouched in his chair, but there was nothing casual in the look he was giving Bardock.  His dark eyes were fixed intently on the third-class, his face as still as stone.  The Queen had leaned forward slightly, her golden eyes also locked on him with an unreadable expression.

"I beg this Court to grant me the right to redress," Bardock said, steeling himself for the next, most difficult part.  "As there were no witnesses, I request the right to redress based on forensic evidence only."

"No," the King said instantly, quickly, without thought.  

"I counsel consideration, Mate," the Queen said suddenly in her sharp Montessi accent, laying a hand on the King's arm.  "A woman, even so a slave, has been brutally and unjustly killed.  The men responsible should pay, by whatever means they can be found guilty."

"No, I will not defy the wisdom of those who went before us," King Vegeta said, shaking his head.  "If we allow science to determine who is guilty, if the only requirement for redress is a 'scientific test', then we will destroy our heritage.  The Warriors who founded our Empire determined that one's guilt can only be determined by visual perceptions and witness testimony.  I cannot grant this request, even at my mate's counsel."

The Queen had gone stiff and silent again, her hand still on the King's arm.  Bardock studied her covertly; he had not thought that she would come to the defense of his plea, especially for a slave.  Finally, the Queen removed her hand from her King's arm, pulling it back onto the arm of her chair.  "My King has so ruled," she said, her voice as emotionless as the mask that she now wore.  "It must be done, according to his rule."  She leaned forward suddenly, her voice hopeful as she asked Bardock, "Can then nothing be done to compensate you for your loss?"

"There is one thing," Bardock said, leaping into the opening that she had given him.  "She left a son, a boy of eighteen years.  He is as smart as she, a willing worker, physically strong and as exotically attractive as his mother.  In time, he'll come close to replacing her.  Unfortunately, he cared for her very much – they were very close to one another, and her loss is hitting him hard.  I think that if he got away from my house and the lab, away from a lifetime of memories for a while, he would gain perspective and his mood would stabilize.  Otherwise, I fear that I'll lose him too; then I'll then have lost the two most valuable slaves I ever had.  I'm asking that he be allowed to serve you here in your palace, even though I would still maintain his ownership."

"I could see such a thing," the Queen said quickly, turning to her mate.  "It is an unusual proposal, but given the circumstances, and the depth of service that Third-Class Bardock has given this Empire, I counsel acceptance."

The King was silent for a moment, his head bowed as if he were deep in thought.  After a long moment, he spoke.  "The slaves in the palace are upheld to a certain standard," the King said.  "I have no objection to this arrangement if the young man in question can meet the physical standards."

Bardock bowed his head to hide his victorious smile.  "I'm sure that he will meet your standards, Your Majesties."

"I will make sure of it," King Vegeta declared.  "Bring him before me."

Bardock's smile disappeared and silence reigned in the mighty hall.  The throne room was a sacred place; no non-Saiyan had ever been in its majestic halls.  It was cleaned by servants, never slaves.  "Your Majesty," the Court Caller stammered, clutching his staff of office, "the person in question is a _slave, an alien_!"

"Then should we go to him, hmm?" the King asked, his tone quiet and ominous.  "Should we have to be inconvenienced?"  He let the silence hang in the air for a moment, then shouted, "Bring him to me!"

*  *  *

Trunks stared at the back of the Saiyan Guardsman who had come to summon him.  Not for the first time today, he wondered why Master Bardock had brought him here.  He tried to figure out what was going on, but he gave up after a couple of moments, sighing tiredly.  He knew that he should care, but he couldn't summon the strength to try; nothing seemed very important right now.

He trudged after the guard, his boots slapping the floor hollowly. Normally, he would have enjoyed the appearance of the brand-new black boots, as he would have enjoyed the sharp new bodysuit, done in the same orange and brown as House Bardock, with muted colors to signify his slave status.

The Guardsman glanced back at him briefly to make sure that he was following, grunting irritably when he saw that he was.  Trunks wondered why the man was so upset; normally Saiyans didn't care one way or another about slaves so long as they did what they were ordered.  Finally, he shrugged, forgetting about it; thinking took too much energy right now.

Trunks didn't even notice the massive double doors at the end of this hallway until they began to rumble open.  He gaped up as the one-piece whitestones opened away from him, revealing a massive chamber filled with Saiyans in finely decorated bodysuits and armor.  None of them were very friendly as he entered behind the Guardman; in fact, he would have said many of them were openly hostile.  _Why? I have done nothing wrong! _

But when he saw who was at the end of the massive room, he forgot about the other Saiyans.  The King of Vegeta-sei and his bond-mate the Queen sat in their bloodstone chairs, and Trunks felt the blood rush from his face.  My father, he thought, staring at the King.  He had never been this close to the King before; he had only seen him in pictures and in the stories his mother had told for him…

_A mighty prince with an empty heart hiding a lonely man…  He tried to break away from his people, but he wasn't strong enough…  Maybe I wasn't valuable enough to him…   He didn't know it, but he had lost the one thing that could have made him happy…  Silly, it's to choose what one wants: the one gift of all free men, the joy of freedom…  He knows now, of course, but now it is too late for him… Trunks, don't ever, ever, let anyone else tell you who or what is most important to you…_

Trunks felt his face harden.  _She loved you!_ He screamed silently to the man on the throne, feeling his hands tremble with the effort not to power up.  He wanted to embrace the golden light that he had found when his mother died; to use that power to wipe the room with the man that had fathered him.  But he forced himself to remain calm, forced himself to hold back that beckoning light.

The King and Queen were staring at him, appraising him in a manner that he had gotten used to as a slave.  Finally, the Queen smiled and said, "He appears to be in good health my Mate, and he is attractive enough to serve in the palace.  I don't think he will be a problem."

Trunks felt a flutter of panic.  Was Bardock selling him to the King?

"What can you do, boy?" the King grunted, his tone dismissive though his gaze was not.  Trunks felt as if the King was eating him alive with his stare; it was so distracting that Bardock had to nudge him to remind him that the King had asked him a question.  

"I can fix machinery, I have had training in computers and sophisticated electronics, and I have been trained in medical procedures," Trunks said, pleased that his voice carried forward strongly despite the tremble of fear in his gut.  The tall Saiyan next to the throne gave him a hard look and Trunks frowned back at him.  _What!?_

"I have mechanics, computer technicians and doctors, impudent boy," King Vegeta said coldly, "why do I need you, particularly when you have not been trained in palace etiquette?"

"Your father needs an attendant, and etiquette can be learned," Queen Cyrane added quickly, smiling and nodding slightly.  "Lord Vegeta needs someone to watch him, and with his failing health, the boy's medical background would be perfect.  This boy – what is your name, child?"

"Trunks Briefs, ma'am," Trunks said, then caught himself and added, "Your Majesty, I mean."  Silently, he prayed that he was not committing any grievous social gaffes – no one had told him how to deal with royals!

"Trunks would do well as your father's attendant, I think," the Queen said with a gentle smile.  Now that the Queen had commanded his attention, Trunks really looked at her.  She was tall and regal, with dark skin and a narrow, oval face.  Her nose appeared to draw the rest of her features forward, creating the impression of a predatory bird.  Her unusual hair added to the impression of a predator as her mane of hair rose to form a crest above her head.  From there, the hair arched back from her face and neck to frame her features with a black edging before sloping down her back in a black mass.  In the midst of her black hair and sienna skin, her eyes were large, luminous and golden.  They softened her sharp features while simultaneously reminding viewers of the eyes of a wild animal.  Her tail, heavier and more thickly furred than most Saiyans', twitched gently behind her.

"Hmph," King Vegeta grunted, clasping his hands over his chest.  "I will need to consider this, privately.  Everyone, you are dismissed."  Bardock put his hand on Trunks' shoulder, moving to guide him out when King Vegeta's voice stopped them.  "Boy, you stay."

The Saiyans in the room stopped as one, turning to stare at their King.  If he was bothered by their cold stares, he didn't show it.  Instead, he gazed calmly at the young slave, waiting for Trunks to comply.  Bardock shot a troubled look at Trunks, but obediently bowed.  He gave Trunks a quick reassuring squeeze and began to move out of the room.  As if his movement was a silent signal, the rest of the Saiyans in attendance began to leave as well.

In the now-empty room, Trunks turned back to the King, curious as to what the King wanted of him – and quietly, desperately hopeful that he wanted Trunks to be his son.


	6. Chapter 4 A Meeting

Avia marched down the hallway, scattering servants and nobles alike before her.  Any who thought to stop her reconsidered when they took in her anger-twisted face, dusty, torn clothing and bruised skin.  All the nobles knew the cause, which only made her rage worse; she could hear them smirking behind her, laughing at her.  

"Nappa," she growled, her husky voice rumbling loudly in the corridor – louder than she had intended, and one of the nobles was insolent enough to give her a cheeky grin.  In response, Avia bared her teeth at him, and his smile disappeared as he jerked away from her.  That reaction finally put a grin on her face, the first one she had had all day.

_Gods damn Nappa, anyway_, she thought, the smile on her face finally creating a good mood.  And just in time, too, she realized, as she saw that court had adjourned for the day.  Her mother and the King would probably want to see her soon, to discuss whatever issues they felt she needed to know.  She needed to clean up from sparring and get ready for that ordeal. _My life_, she thought, _just one ordeal after another_.

"Avia!" she heard Vegeta hiss, and she followed her brother's voice up to the top level of the palace.  His golden eyes were twinkling with glee, a usual state for the young prince. He was leaning over the railing, gesturing for her to come up to him.  "Avia, you have to see this!"

"What could be more important than getting ready for Mother and Father's daily lectures?" Avia asked, but she was already floating up to join her brother.  Whatever he wanted to show her could only delay them from meeting with their parents, and she was more than happy to delay in any possible way.

"There's a slave in the Great Hall, and Father is talking with him privately!" Prince Vegeta hissed eagerly, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the balcony that overlooked the Great Hall.

"Vegeta, we don't have time for games.  Mother and Father will be looking for us," Avia snapped, now irritated that her brother was obviously pulling a childish and transparent prank on her.  It was impossible that a slave would be in the throne room, just as it was impossible that the King would willingly acknowledge a slave's existence by speaking with one.

"Avia, I swear that it's true!" Vegeta said, stopping so that he could look her in the eyes.  

Avia stared down at her younger brother, weighing what he had just said to her.  When Vegeta swore that it was true, he believed it.  "Fine," she sighed, smiling to take the sting out of her grumpy tone, "show me."

Vegeta gave her a big grin so unlike his father's normal smile, and Avia's heart twisted in her chest, just as it always did when she thought about the King and his son.  _You should have been born on solid rock on a wind swept ledge_, she thought at her younger sibling.  _Your first breath should have been the ice-winds of the peaks, not squalid desert air.  _But what could her mother have done?  The King had spoken, and his word was law.  But Avia was still sad when she considered all that her brother had lost due to his father's demands.

Her brother turned a serious face to her and put a finger to his lips.  Avia mirrored the gesture to let him know that she understood, though it had really been unnecessary.  Looking at his dark face, so like his father's except for its coloring, she was overcome with love for Vegeta, and on impulse, she grabbed him and pulled him to her chest for a rough hug.  With an irritable grunt, he wiggled away and glared at her, clearly not amused.  Avia smiled and shrugged helplessly, as if to say she couldn't resist, and her baby brother rolled his eyes in response.

_Not a baby, anymore_, Avia thought ruefully as she started to follow him again.  He was fourteen, and would soon be considered an adult.  Despite the fact that she was only six years older than he, she suddenly felt very old and tired.  _I need to go home before my soul dies, before I forget how to be Montessian._  She hadn't been home since that horrible day when the King had come for her mother, and had claimed her as his daughter.

Vegeta crept along the hallway, and ducked quietly through the door to the balcony.  Avia mimicked him, careful not to make any noise.  The King surely wouldn't want his children spying on him, and if he had wanted them to be a part of this, he would have called for them.

The balcony was carved from the same whitestone as most of the palace, with blocky benches bearing the Royal Family crest.  The railing was also whitestone, but bloodstone insets bearing the Royal crest dominated the design, reminding Avia of sun-bleached ribs with shreds of meat clinging to them.  The lamps were not lit and the balcony was dark; the bright desert sunlight poured into the room through narrow windows below their feet, lighting the room below but casting those on the balcony in shadow.  It was also oppressively hot this close to the ceiling where all the sun-scorched air was trapped, and Avia felt herself begin to sweat.

Vegeta crawled down to the railing, keeping low so that he wouldn't be seen.  Avia squeezed in next to him, grimly noticing that the heat wasn't bothering him at all.  With an uncomfortable sigh, she peered through the railing to see the occupants of the room.  In the sun-lit room, a slave only a little taller than herself was in the center of the floor, facing the dais.  At this angle, it was hard to see his face, but the bodysuit he wore let Avia know that he was young and in good shape.  All she could really see of him was the top of his head, which was full of flat purple hair.  The King was sitting on his chair, studying the alien slave.  Vegeta tossed her a superior look, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out at him in answer.

"I remember your mother," King Vegeta said suddenly, his voice carrying clearly to the watchers above.  Next to her, Vegeta stiffened, but when she glanced at this face, it was impassive.  "She was a good scientist and mechanic.  Bardock is right, she was difficult to replace; after my father gave her to him, we had a hard time finding another person to do everything she could."

"I miss her," the slave replied in a strong, solid voice, but it was wild with strong emotions. "I will always miss her."  Avia frowned, expecting the King to be upset that this slave was speaking so familiarly to him, but he didn't rebuke him.

"Your father was Krillan, a human slave, yes?" King Vegeta asked, sweeping his robe behind him as he stood up.  "Do you also miss him?"

"I don't know my father, Your Majesty," the slave answered, his voice now cautious.  "Krillan served in the mines in the Waterless Wastes since before I was born, and died there three years ago."

King Vegeta nodded, his hand coming up to stroke his beard thoughtfully.  "You have her eyes; I didn't remember her name, but I knew who your mother was the moment I saw you," the King finally said.

"She often spoke of you, My Lord," the slave said, then seemed to wince.  

"Oh, what did she say about me?" Whatever she had said was forever lost, for at that moment Prince Vegeta sneezed, the fine sand on the floor irritating his airways.  Avia reacted without thought; she wrapped her arms around her brother and pulled both of them back from the edge.

"Who is that?" the King roared below them, and they both heard the buzzing sound him that told them he was gathering ki.

"Me, Father," Prince Vegeta yelled, and then whispered to Avia, "Talk to you later."  With that, he was over the railing, drifting to the floor.  Avia's stomach twisted with fear for her brother; King Vegeta had a terrible temper, and her brother was taking all the punishment himself, rather than spreading it between the two of them.  She crawled to the rail and cautiously looked over.

"Father," the prince murmured, as he landed and dropped smoothly into a kneeling bow.  He started to rise to his feet when the open-handed slap from his powered-up father knocked him down to the floor.  Avia bit back her cry as she huddled in the balcony.  "I hate you!" she whispered to the King.  "If you weren't the Legendary, I would kill you!"  The King snatched Vegeta up and hit him again, and Avia had to bury her face in her arm to keep from screaming in helpless rage.

The slave stepped forward as if to stop the King.

*  *  *

Trunks had no thoughts in his head when he grabbed the King's arm, but he knew he had made a mistake when the King's gaze snapped to him.  Anger and poorly concealed outrage flashed in his dark eyes, and Trunks suddenly wondered if his mother could have been mistaken – there was no way that he could share blood with that dark gaze.  Trunks realized that the man's rage was going to spill over onto him at any second, and in desperation he said the first thing that popped into his head, "Your Majesty, is this your son, the Prince?"

King Vegeta blinked, as if Trunks had said something extraordinary, and Trunks took the opportunity to let go of his arm.  The King turned and looked at his son hanging limply from his hand, unconscious.  With a snort, the King dropped him to the floor and growled, "Weakling.  He's unconscious from two little taps.  Must be his mother's blood."

Trunks bowed his head and pretended he wasn't there, hoping that the King would forget about him.  It seemed to work; His Majesty stared at his son for another moment, then swept out of the room, his cloak billowing like wings behind him.  The second he passed through the whitestone doors and disappeared into the waiting crowd, Trunks dropped to his knees next to the dark-skinned boy, feeling for his pulse with one hand while checking his eyes with the other.

Someone landed in front of him on the other side of the boy, and Trunks glanced up to see a Saiyan woman kneeling down as well.  Her golden eyes were locked onto the boy's face as she murmured, "Vegeta?"  Her husky voice trembled with emotion.

"His pupils aren't blown," Trunks said, "and his pulse is strong.  I think he'll be alright, in the long run."  She glanced up at him, and Trunks saw that she was crying, tears running unnoticed down her face.  "Really, ma'am, he'll be okay."  The tears made her look young, probably younger than she really was; Trunks estimated that she was close to his age.

Rushing footsteps at the end of the hall caught their attention, and both looked up to see Bardock and the Queen hurrying toward them.  The Queen's face was twisted with rage and pain as she looked at her son, and Trunks realized that the young woman kneeling next to him must be related to her; the same golden eyes, cresting hair, and dark skin marked the young woman's features.  But where Queen Cyrane had a sharp-featured face with a dominant nose, this girl had rounder, softer features.  The only mar to her facial appearance, if you discounted the dirt and tears staining her face, was that her chin was too bold, though her lips attempted to bring her chin into proportion by being full and firm.

Bardock kneeled down next to him, and Trunks scooted away so that Bardock could examine the prince.  "His pulse is good, his pupils aren't blown, but I haven't had a chance to check for swelling under the hair," Trunks said as Bardock nodded, checking the pulse and eyes himself.  Bardock began to run his hands over the boy's scalp, and Trunks took the moment to study his half-brother.  He wasn't quite as dark as his mother, and he had her golden eyes, but that was where the resemblance ended.  King Vegeta had stamped his features on this child's face strongly: the same sharp, arrogant features, the same gravity-defying hair.

A murmur of noise attracted Trunks' attention, and he glanced up to see some of the bolder nobles moving slowly toward them, no doubt to see how badly the prince was injured.  

"Avia, dry your face," the Queen hissed, and the young woman started, her eyes jerking away from the prince.  The Queen leaned closer and said, "Don't let them see you cry."  She didn't need to say whom; even Trunks could guess that.

The woman nodded and began to rub her face against her arm, but it was a dirty, torn exercise suit, and wasn't helping much.  Trunks watched her for a second, then pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.

She glanced up at him, startled, and he gave her a reassuring smile.  When she didn't immediately take the cloth, he tucked it into her hand and said, "Here, go on.  I've got more at home."

She gave him a slight smile and began to rub her face; the handkerchief worked much better than the bodysuit and her face was quickly clean.  Trunks smiled and nodded to her, letting her know that she was fine, and not a moment too soon – the first of the nobles had arrived, murmuring concern for the prince.

"We need to get him to his room," Bardock muttered to Trunks, "and away from gawkers.  Can you carry him if I clear a path?"

Trunks nodded and slid his arms under the boy's legs and shoulders, picking him up easily.  He did give a little grunt, to make it seem an effort; he had long since learned how to hide his above-human strength and it had become something he did by reflex.

"Avia, help attend to Vegeta in his room," Queen Cyrane murmured to the young woman.  "I'll handle the nobles here."  Avia nodded silently, but as she moved next to Trunks, he noticed that she shot dirty looks at the approaching nobility.  

Bardock began to work through the crowd, ordering them to clear a path for the Prince.  They moved aside grudgingly, slow to move at a third-class's orders.  Trunks tried not to grind his teeth, but this elitism and snobbishness really got under his skin after a while.  He had thought before today that it was just the way that Saiyans treated their slaves, but now that he was getting exposed to nobility, he was beginning to think that it was the way that all Saiyans treated those socially below them.

And that was his problem.  Social status was determined by strength.  He knew that he was stronger than most third-classes – hell, when he compared his ki the way that Kakkarot had taught him to Saiyans like Raditz and even Bardock, he was much more powerful.  But he was born a slave, and there was no way for a slave to cast off that status.  If you weren't strong enough to stop them, then you were enslaved; if your parents were too weak to stop them, why should you be able to?  There were no rules for his situation, and Trunks had little faith that any would be written for him.

He didn't worry about it too much before, but the death of his mother and the appearance of the golden light had changed everything.  What had once seemed the way that things were was gone, and all that was left to him was the sickening feeling that he was in the middle of terrible changes that would destroy all that he had known.

Like the fact that he had never believed that Bardock would ever sell him or his mother.  Now, though, he wasn't sure.  If the King was not evaluating him for purchase, then what was he evaluating him for?  


	7. Chapter 5 A Connection

Like the fact that he had never believed that Bardock would ever sell him or his mother.  Now, though, he wasn't sure.  If the King was not evaluating him for purchase, then what was he evaluating him for?  Trunks didn't know, and that was what was so bad about this whole thing.  He could deal with it, but he couldn't begin to plan and work through it unless he knew what 'it' was.

Bardock pushed through the last of the crowd, earning him a glare from a noble, and turned back to Trunks.  "Take him up to his room," he instructed.  "I have to get my equipment.  My Lady, would you be kind enough to show him the way?"

Trunks turned to the woman, hoping that he was hiding his surprise; she had been so quiet he had forgotten she was there.  "Yes, I will," the woman said softly.  Even when she was quiet, she had a deep, husky voice which Trunks found he liked a lot.  After a moment of hesitation, she added, "Thank you, Third Class Bardock."

Bardock bowed to her and said, "It was my duty and pleasure, Princess Avia."  He straightened and dashed up a hallway, hurrying to get his equipment.

_Princess?_ Trunks thought, trying to remember if Avia was the name of the Royal Princess or one of the other noble families.  _Though she is pretty concerned about Prince Vegeta, and she's so similar, and so unlike any of the other nobles; she must be the Royal Princess._  With a realization that bordered on shock, he grasped that he was alone with his two half-siblings.  _My family.__  What's left of them.  Oh, Mom, why did you have to die?  I need you!_

"Are you alright?" Avia's voice intruded on his thoughts.

"What?  Oh, no, I'm fine," Trunks said, studying her face carefully.  _My sister's face and my brother in my arms._Without realizing it, he gave her a gentle smile.  "I was thinking about something else."

"I want to carry him," the princess said, reaching for the prince, a worried frown twisting her face.  

"Um, ok, but really, I don't mind, and he isn't too heavy for me," Trunks said, reluctantly passing him into her arms.  She moved quietly up the hallway, carefully holding him.  Trunks wasn't sure that he should follow her, but he was supposed to meet Bardock in the Prince's room and she knew the way.

"He took my punishment," Avia growled, looking down at the boy in her arms.  She seemed to be talking to herself, not Trunks.  He intended to remain quiet, but she destroyed that intention with her next sentence.  "Someday, that ass is going to lose control and kill him."

"Aa-ass?" Trunks stuttered, stunned.  "Do you mean the King?  Your father?"

"Father!  Ha!" Avia snorted.  "He might claim me, but I don't claim him."  She glanced at him sharply, a slight frown on her face.  "Aren't you a bit noisy for a slave?"

"Um, sorry, I guess," Trunks mumbled, and then winced and added, "I mean that I _am_ sorry, and that I guess I'm noisy."  He shrugged and added, "Bardock encouraged Mom and me to speak up and ask questions.  I guess when you're not in a lab, it's different."

"Oh, that's alright, if I can ask you a question," Princess Avia said with a secretive smile.

"Uh, sure," Trunks said nervously.  What would a princess want to know about him?

"Why were you in the Great Hall, alone with the King?" she asked as she turned a corner into a lavish bedroom.  Trunks trailed behind her, staring around in awe.  The soaring, vaulted ceiling peaked high over his head, and the large bed was draped with pale, fine linens for the day and dark, heavy blankets for night.  It was at least eight times bigger than the room he had shared with his mother; the bed alone was almost as large as their room!

She had moved to the bed and laid their brother down on it; Trunks remembered that she had asked him something.  "I'm not sure, really," he answered as he climbed onto the bed next to the prince to check his vitals again.  "Heck," he added with a tired sigh, "I'm not sure what I'm doing here at all."  All these thoughts of his mother and family were pushing away the animation of the last few minutes, and he was starting to feel that dragging exhaustion again.

"Don't you think it was odd that he was asking about your mother?  She was a slave.  Why would he remember or care about her?" the princess asked, and Trunks' tiredness disappeared as his fear set in.  His mother had told him what would happen if anyone found out who he was, and he was sure that it would only be worse if the Royal Princess found his secret.  Half-Saiyans, when you could get a Saiyan to admit that they could even exist, were killed at birth.  Trunks had heard many times the precautions that Bulma had gone through to keep him secret, and he was desperate not to blow his own cover.

"Well, I don't know," Trunks admitted thinking as fast as he could.  "Blue eyes are so rare here that she probably stood out in his mind.  And she was a very memorable person." 

"Was?" Avia asked softly, her face softening.  "You said that you would miss her.  Did she die?"

Trunks tried to keep his face impassive, but he knew that he wasn't very successful.  "Some men – Saiyans – raped and killed her," he said, hearing his voice crack despite his best efforts.  "There were no witnesses, and no way to bring them to justice."

"My regrets for your loss," Princess Avia said softly.  "May the gods hear your screams and correct the injustice."

"Thank you," Trunks said, giving her a tight smile.  "You're the first person to say that.  Most Saiyans don't care about a slave."

"The Montessi don't believe in slavery," the princess said forcefully, shaking her head.  "Your mother would have been either a servant or a free worker."

"Montessi?  I thought you were Saiyan," Trunks asked, moving slightly so that he could feel the other side of the prince's head, checking for rapidly-growing knots or bumps.

"We are," the princess said sharply, giving him an angry glare.  "Most Saiyan think that we are savages or weaklings, or somehow inferior because we chose to live in the mountains, rather than the plains."  She laughed, a bitter, hard noise.  "Most Saiyans are weaker than a Montessi; the mountains beat my people and shape us.  They give us hearts of stone and fists of granite."  She tapped her chest with her closed fist and then shook it at Trunks in a defiant gesture that fit her well.  

"Mountains?  The ones to the far south?" Trunks asked.

Avia looked at him sharply and tilted her head to one side to look at him.  "You have been secluded, if you do not know the story of how the savages from the mountains are tainting the royal crown."

"Not tainting, I think," Trunks said, giving her a lopsided grin.  "Improving would be a better word."

She shot him a startled glance and then smiled, and Trunks was blown away.  _My sister sure has a pretty smile_, he thought.  A very pretty smile – he would have to remind himself that she was his sister until he got used to the idea.  "Do all Montessi look like you?" he asked.

"Like me?" Avia asked, a dangerous tone in her voice.       

"Darker skin, thicker tails, golden eyes?" Trunks asked, careful to keep his voice respectful.

Yes, yes, golden, near-white or green, and two different kinds of hair," Princess Avia replied, her tone lighter but still brimming with warning.  Apparently, her appearance was a touchy subject.

"Two kinds of hair?" Trunks asked, his curiosity overcoming his caution.

Avia reached out and took his hand, causing him to twitch with surprise.  She gently pulled his hand into her hair and said, "Do you feel the stiff coarse hair?  That is called crown hair, and it is like most Saiyans' hair.  It is stiff and keeps the hair off of our necks, shields our scalps, for when we were desert-dwellers in the time before history."  When Trunks nodded, she pulled his hand deeper into her hair and continued, "This softer hair in the center of the head is down hair.  It is thicker and fuller, and very insulating.  We developed this hair over time to shield us from the cold in the mountains."  She dropped his hand and finished with a smile, "And that is your lesson in Saiyan evolution for today."

Trunks grinned back at her, pleased that he was forging a bond with his sister.  _Even if I can never tell her I'm her brother_, he thought sadly.  

*  *  *

_You are a fascinating man_, Avia thought, watching as sadness slid across the slave's features.  _He was probably thinking of his mother again_, she thought, and put her hand on his in comfort.  He jumped in surprise, but smiled back at her, though his sadness was still there.  _Can I put joy in your face again, Sky Eyes?  Can anyone?  _She felt shock at such strange thoughts, but this slave was fascinating.

The doors opened, and Bardock hurried in, carrying his case.  Avia pulled back from Trunks and moved away to give the scientist room to work on her brother.  "How is he?" Bardock asked, setting his bag next to the bed and leaning over the prince.

"The same," Trunks said, and Avia admired his seriousness and professionalism, and how quickly he settled into that demeanor.  "His pulse is steady, and there is some swelling on the head and face, but nothing too bad."

Bardock nodded and pulled out his bio-assessor.  Avia waited impatiently; finally Bardock shut his machine down and stepped away from the bed.  "He'll be fine," Bardock said, smiling and relaxed.  "I'll give instructions to his attendant – Turlip, right?  But mostly, His Highness just needs a good night's rest and some cold compresses."

"And Turlip can arrange for those when Vegeta wakes up," Avia said softly, crossing her arms over her chest.  She stared distractedly at her brother, wondering if he would survive the next outburst from his father.  She wasn't often on the receiving end of Vegeta's temper, but she had received a beating or two and she knew the strength of the King.

"Trunks, now that the prince is settled, we need to get you set up," Bardock said, moving to the boy's side.  Fear washed across the boy's face, and Avia felt sorry for him.  What must it be like to not have a say in your life, to do only what others wanted of you?  With a rush of anger, she realized that she knew something of that feeling; she too was regulated, she too was unable to do as she wished.  She clenched her fists as she stared at her brother.  He was ruled as much as she, and she would do anything to free him from his slavery.  _Anything_.


	8. Chapter 6 A Curmugion

Trunks and Bardock bowed to the princess, but she seemed to be lost in thought and didn't acknowledge them.  They moved quietly out of room, trying not to disturb her.

"That is King Vegeta's daughter, right?" Trunks asked as they moved up the hallway.  

Bardock winced and answered, "So he claims, though I wouldn't say so to her.  She's not fond of him, and doesn't care to be called such."

"Why?" Trunks asked, curious about his siblings.

Bardock pierced him with a sharp look, and stopped walking.  He carefully took Trunks by the shoulders and said, "That is none of your business, boy."  He frowned at the hurt look on the slave's face and said, "I know that you are used to asking any question of me, Trunks.  But you are in the palace now, and you can't ask whatever you want.  You can answer your own questions by keeping your ears open, and thinking about what you hear."

"But I'm not at the palace, am I?" Trunks asked, hating the panic that was closing his throat and searing his eyes with burning tears.  "I mean, I'm just here for a visit, right?  You wouldn't sell me, wou-would you?"

Bardock grabbed Trunks' face and murmured, "No need for tears, lad.  I've asked the King if you can stay here for a while – think of it as a training vacation.  Slaves in the palace have an easier life, and there is so much that you can learn here, things I could never teach you."

"B-b-but, Mom's experiments!  I was trained as her backup – without me, you'll be set back while you train someone else," Trunks said desperately.

"That is not as important as you," Bardock hissed.  "There are things that you will need to know if something were to happen to me.  You can learn those things here I can't teach you."

"What can I learn that you can't teach me?" Trunks blurted angrily.  "I won't learn lab work here!  All I'll learn is how much Saiyans hate me!"

"Hush boy!" Bardock snapped, shaking him lightly – or trying to.  Somehow, in his desperation and fear, Trunks was immovable.  "You'll be attending to Lord Vegeta, the King's father!  This is a great opportunity for you to gain reputation and power, as much as you can!"

"Lord Vegeta?" Trunks asked, grabbing onto one thought: _my grandfather_!  

"Yes, at the request of the Queen, who seems to favor you, and the order of the King, even after you grabbed his arm," Bardock chuckled lightly.  "The gods must favor you too, if you survived doing something that stupid without being blasted into small red pieces."

"After?"

"Yes," Bardock said with a smile.  "After he left the throne room, he told us that he agreed to my request that you stay in the palace for a time and care for Lord Vegeta."  He chuckled again.  "Perhaps he was impressed by your courage – or your stupidity."

"Maybe," Trunks said with a sickly chuckle.  It didn't sound so bad, but to leave his home?  To leave all the comforts and familiarity of everything he had ever known?

"Come on, boy," Bardock said, rubbing the young slave's hair, mussing it up lightly.  "Let's meet the former King."

*  *  *

Bitterness and pain was all that was left to him.  He should have been dead long ago.  The former King of all Saiyans sat on his balcony, huddled in his morning robe.  It was nearly supper; technically, he should have dressed hours ago, but he wasn't going anywhere and he wasn't doing anything, so it didn't matter.   Once the mightiest man on the planet, he now huddled in his room, waiting for nothing, tormented by his very existence.

But something was going on, and even if he was trying to ignore it, his still-sharp mind and keen senses caught hints.  A change in the air of the palace, the whispering of the servants; all signs pointed to a change.  As if to agree with him, cool air, a true rarity in the desert, blew across his face, ruffling his white-streaked beard.

Lord Vegeta snorted irritably, thoughts of change fading as he considered his beard.  _White hair!_ he thought angrily, his eyes locked on the offending locks.  And his head was just as streaked.  With a sigh, he shifted unhappily, trying not to remember that he had had no white the day that Vegeta had won the crown from him.

_I should have died that day_, he thought, feeling his eyes mist with tears of helpless frustration.  _I shouldn't have to live here, suffering, pitied by all those who once feared me._  He couldn't even feel shame at his tears – he had no pride, and no shame left to him.

The doors to his room thudded open and he twisted in his chair to face the interlopers.  His frown faded as he recognized Bardock – he was probably here to give him a check-up, to make sure that he was still living in oblivion.

Then the high sunlight caught a flash of blue behind Bardock, and Vegeta's heart froze in his chest.  _Her!_ he thought.  The slave that he had sent away, that he had given to Bardock.  Another step revealed the truth, that the slave behind Bardock was a young man who just happened to share her eyes.

But those eyes!  They had burned themselves into his mind; he had never been able to forget that night when he had stumbled onto his son and the slave, together.  His son had ordered him to stay out of it; he had quickly given her to Bardock to get her out of the palace and away from his son.  And not three days later, Vegeta had come at him with hate in his eyes, and had defeated him in a nimbus of golden light.  He had expected to die that day, and when he didn't, he knew it was because his son wanted him to suffer from his defeat.  He had also been sure that the slave would show back up in the palace.  Apparently, the brat had thought it through and realized that a King could not consort with a slave; Vegeta had started to search a bride almost immediately.  But Vegeta was convinced that the removal of the slave had been the catalyst that had sent his son after him.  It had never been the drive for the crown, but revenge.  Otherwise, he would be dead now, instead of suffering, held from honorable death like a criminal.  

"My downfall," he whispered, his head dropping onto his chest.

"Your Highness?" Bardock said, bowing lightly and stepping forward.  "May we bother you for a moment?"

Lord Vegeta heaved a heavy sigh and waved them forward as he raised his head again.  Both men moved closer, but Lord Vegeta only had eyes for the blue-eyed slave.  There was something about the young man that was familiar, something besides his eyes.  His stance, his body, his movement, everything screamed familiarity, but there was nothing he could clearly lay a finger on.

"Lord Vegeta," Bardock began, and Lord Vegeta heard the hesitation in his voice.  Most of the nobles were nervous around him, as if his shame was contagious.  The slave was boldly watching him, with an almost eager expression on his face.  "This is Trunks Briefs.  You remember his mother, the science genius that you gifted me with?  This is her son, and he will be attending you."

At that, Lord Vegeta took a closer look at the boy.  Strong arrogant features framed those perfect blue eyes, and a shock of purple hair rounded the boy's exotic appearance.  The body in the suit was strong and well-muscled, surprisingly fit for a slave from a laboratory.  "Do you have any experience in attending to a noble?  Or are you going to be an interference as well as a pain in ass?" Lord Vegeta asked, watching the boy swallow back his pride.  That was an interesting reaction from a slave who was supposed to have lost all arrogance long ago.

"My Lord, I admit that I have never done this before," the slave said, holding his head high.  "But I am a fast learner, and I'm sure that I won't disappoint you."

"Really?" Lord Vegeta asked, pushing himself out of his chair.  "Then make me a Red Sands drink, light on the jalloo, and make it quick."  He pointed at the drink bar half-hidden in an alcove, then turned to Bardock.  "How have you been?  Are your experiments going well?"

With half a mind, he listened to Bardock; the other half was paying attention to what the boy was doing.  The kid had moved over to the computer terminal, and was fiddling with it; after a minute, he moved over to the bar and began to work there.  Another minute and the lad was moving over discreetly to him, a glass of red liquid in his hand.  Lord Vegeta took it without comment and sipped it. 

Startled, he nearly spat it out.  It was correct, and good to boot.  He hated Red Sands, but something had been done to it to make it better – fruitier. He couldn't even taste the jalloo.  He waited for Bardock to wind down, and then said, "So this boy has been assigned to me, by my son no doubt, and I have no say."

"That is one way to look at it, Your Majesty," Bardock said, his tone respectful and diplomatic.  "Another would be that your son wanted you to have someone smart, careful and physically capable to serve you, as you currently have no attendants."

"Did the brat-King tell you that I don't have any attendants because I made their lives so hellish that they refused to serve me?" Lord Vegeta growled. "Did it occur to anyone that I might not want attendants?"

"I am following your son's orders," Bardock said softly.

"Yes, fine whatever," Lord Vegeta said, waving his hand dismissively.  "I knew that eventually they would give me someone who couldn't refuse to serve."

Bardock merely inclined his head, refusing to argue or acknowledge the former King's statement.  

Finally, Lord Vegeta sighed and downed the drink in one fluid gesture.  He dropped the glass on the chair and said to Bardock, "I have to prepare for dinner.  If you'll excuse me?"

Bardock bowed and turned to Trunks.  "I'll check on you tomorrow, alright?"

The boy nodded silently, and Lord Vegeta and Trunks watched Bardock leave.  When he had disappeared around a corner, Lord Vegeta turned to the boy and said, "Shut the door.  Get me dressed for dinner."


	9. Chapter 7 A Disappointment

Consciousness came back in a rush to the young Prince Vegeta, but he didn't move or allow himself to give any indication that he was aware.  Partially, it was a self-test, but mostly, he didn't want to face anyone, even Avia, who would be in the room with him.  Instead, he needed time to come to prepare himself for what was coming: the shame at dinner as all the other nobles sneered silently at him for losing consciousness after two slaps; unwelcome pity from his sister, and his mother, too, if she were here; and the worse, his father coldly ignoring him, punishing him for being weak by pretending he wasn't there at all, that he didn't exist.

"He's going to kill him someday," Avia's voice carried softly, soothing to his ears.  His wonderful sister who loved him despite everything; despite his parentage and despite the way that desert Saiyans treated one another and he sometimes treated her.  In the savage mountains, all worked together, or so his mother had told him time and time again.  "_The Montessi are strong in their unity, which was different from the desert way – fight or suffer, win or die, trust no one."_  Sometimes, he wondered which he was, but he loved his sister and mother so much that he knew in his heart he was Montessi.

"Hush," his mother's voice carried sharply in the room, her native accent marking her as Montessi even if her appearance was unseen.  Sometimes, he heard it in Avia's voice, but she had long ago hidden for self-preservation.  Sometimes, he hated that sharp dialect, but never for long – it was the voice that had to comforted him when he was a baby.

An imperfect, genetically disarrayed baby; he knew that his parents weren't bonded now or ever.  He had always suspected that they weren't – after all, if he were perfect, the way that he was supposed to be, he would be a Legendary by now, instead of an embarrassment.

But worse, he knew that he wasn't the true-heir to the crown.  That honor was reserved for the child born to his father's bond-mate, an unknown half-brother or sister somewhere on Vegeta-sei.  Someday, they would come to claim the crown, and he would be cast out, alone, his shame revealed to all.

What would he do?  All his life, he had trained to be the King someday, only to discover that he was an illegitimate brat, an unknowing usurper.  But it was all that he had ever known; maybe it would be better if his father killed him.

Avia laid her hand on his forehead unexpectedly, and Vegeta flinched.  "Vegeta?" his sister murmured, and he heard his mother rise and move toward him.  _Great, I can't even pretend to be unconscious right_, he thought angrily.

With the superb acting skills that came with learning court politics, Vegeta allowed his eyes to flutter open slowly.   "What happened?" he mumbled, putting a hand to his head as he lifted it off the pillow.  Almost immediately, pain lanced through his skull – Father had really pounded him this time.  He dropped his head with a grunt, but now that the pain had started, it didn't want to stop.  

"Vegeta, are you alright?" his mother asked softly, sitting down next to him on the bed.

Forcing the pain back, Vegeta lied smoothly, "Yes, Mother, fine.  How is Father?"

His mother sighed and rubbed his stomach gently before answering, "Fine as he can be."  She gave him a sad, tight smile as she laid a cold washcloth on his forehead, the coolness soothing.  Her other hand ran gently through his hair, smoothing it back from his face.

To Vegeta's horror, the comfort from his mother dismantled his resolve, and he blurted, "Father and you aren't bonded, are you?"

Cyrane hesitated, then shook her head quietly.

"Then I'm not the Prince, am I?" Vegeta asked, hiding most of the quiver in his voice.

"Your father has named you heir," his mother replied, her voice firm.  "You are his only son."

"But if he bonded to someone else--"

Cyrane took both of his hands in hers.  "Your father named you; there will never be any other found to be named.  Do you understand?"

"I concur," Avia said, nodding her head resolutely.  "You're the only heir."

"And once you defeat him, there won't be a chance for another person to make claim," his mother continued.  "After all, I am the strongest woman; your father, the strongest Saiyan ever.  No one else will be able to beat you once you become a Legendary."

_If I become a Legendary_, Vegeta thought glumly.

*  *  *

Trunks hadn't been sure what being an attendant would entail, but he was sure that it wouldn't be boring.  He had been so wrong.

He stood still behind Lord Vegeta's chair in the dining hall, waiting for someone to ask him to do something, _anything_.  At least before arriving at dinner, he had had to care for his grandfather, helping him select clothing and put it on.  Worse, he hadn't had time to eat, and the smell of the food was driving him crazy.  The noise of fifty or so Saiyan nobles idly chatting and dining was giving him a headache.  He couldn't even mentally distract himself, in case someone wanted something from him.

_Screw it_, he finally thought, and collected his thoughts, pushing them away from the center of his mind.  As he did so, the din of the room faded, through he kept himself alerted for anyone calling his name.  In the open area that he had created in his mind, he allowed himself to collect a bit of ki – not enough to do anything with really, just enough to reach out with and sense other ki.  

In the darkness of his mind, he began to see flames grow from the blackness.  He slide his eyes open a touch; while keeping his eyes open made concentrating more difficult, it also meant that he could match the flames to people easily.  Had he been sensing one or two people, he wouldn't have needed to visually match them, but with the hundred or so in this room, it was necessary until he could learn their ki signatures.

Most of the flames were small, or in the case of the slaves, glowing embers that barely lit up the darkness.  All of the nobles were a bright candle flame, and a few were more noticeable.  In particular, there were seven people in the room who were bonfires to the others' candles.

A bald noble whose name he did not know was sitting next to Avia.  While size was usually not an indication of power, this man was heads and shoulders over everyone else, as if the ki that burned inside of him had inflated him.  Avia burned bright, but she was dwarfed by the man next to her.  Prince Vegeta was also dwarfed by the bald man, but Saiyans were known to grow more powerful as they aged, and this bald fellow was older than most of the people at the table.  Perhaps his siblings could increase their ki in the years to come and would overwhelm the man eventually.  

Lord Vegeta was too a bonfire, stronger than the bald man even, but he was in turn dwarfed by Queen Cyrane.  She burned brilliantly at her mate's side, but she was a speck of light compared to King Vegeta.  If the others were bonfires, then he was a raging firestorm, roaring and spinning with fiery power.

But it was interesting for Trunks to note that the seventh bonfire in the room was himself.  He was more powerful than anyone, save his father.  He was, by all accounting, the second most powerful person on the planet.

The irony was painful.

*  *  *

King Vegeta sighed and rolled out of bed, walking over to the balcony.  Something had changed today.  His father had arrived at dinner for the first time in years, his son had been spying on him, and that woman's child had shown up.

"Bulma," he whispered, leaning his head against the rail of the balcony.  It felt good to say the forbidden name.  On some level, he always believed that he would break down and secret her into the palace, even after she had had a human child.  But he had needed an heir, and then after Vegeta had been born the time had never seemed right, and then there had been no time at all.  With a sigh, he tilted his head back to watch the stars, trying not to feel lonely.

Now, all he had was the future; Bulma was dead and gone, and he had no desire for vengeance as it wouldn't bring her back.  Her human son was unimportant to him; he wasn't sure why he was letting the slave stay in the palace, but it had made Cyrane happy, and, in truth, it was the least he could do for _her_.  But now it was time to build the future; maybe, he mused, there was time to repair the rift between himself and Cyrane.  Maybe they could bond, and produce a true heir for Vegeta-sei.

"I love you, Bulma," he whispered, "but you're gone, and I have to move on.  I have to go on."

As he crawled back into bed, he continued to tell himself that.  With enough time and repetition, he could come to believe it.  He didn't bother to consider that he had used the present tense when he spoke of his love for her.  That fact was unimportant, as unimportant as her son.

*  *  *

Avia lay on her back, her eyes closed as she ran her fingers over her belly.  It was an oddly comforting gesture, a reminder from childhood of when her mother used to rub her stomach to calm her and put her to sleep.  "Trunks," she said, enjoying the sound of the name in the darkness.  

The slave had never been far from her thoughts all evening.  She had seen him briefly at dinner, standing behind Lord Vegeta, silent and watchful.  She could still feel his hand in her hair, rubbing gently at her scalp.

She had never understood the desire of the Saiyans to tolerate slavery.  But she could understand some of it at this moment; under the current rules, she could order Trunks into her bed.  But she didn't want that at the same time – for the first time, she had found a man that she wanted to actively pursue, wanted to win.

Even if he was a slave and a non-Saiyan.

*  *  *

Trunks lay awake for a long time, trying to sleep.  Too much had happened today – meeting his half-brother, half-sister, grandfather and father, coming to the palace, and leaving home.  "Calm down, kid," he muttered to himself, using the same tonal inflections that his mom would have used.  But that only made him feel both homesick and lonelier than ever.

With a violent grunt, he flipped onto his side, trying to find a comfortable place to sleep.  The mattress and room were unfamiliar, and he wasn't used to the noise of his grandfather sleeping in the next room.  Sleep came eventually, but what little he got was invaded by wild dreams of beings glowing like the sun and flashing golden eyes from dark shadows.


	10. Chapter 8 A Problem

The next five weeks were some of the most trying days of Trunks' life.  He had to learn everything as he went, usually by screwing it up first, and he quickly found that the other slaves were unhelpful, at best.  They were willing to gossip with him and feed him juicy tidbits of palace life, but they knew the Saiyan way, and practiced it themselves; they were always looking to outdo one another.  They never actually told him anything useful, and he had caught one of them lying to him, trying to get him in trouble.

The Saiyan servants were even worse.  It seemed that several of them wanted his position, and they were vocal and abusive in their opinions and desires.  Trunks counted it a good day when one didn't try to trip him or knock him over.  He wasn't sure how much longer he could put up with being pushed around; he was starting to lose his temper to the point where he didn't care if they found out about him.

But there were some good parts to his new life, too, like Avia.  She seemed to be around quite a bit, and more than once her presence had saved him from a serious beating.  She didn't really have to do anything, but she always interceded, quietly reminding slaves and servants alike that they had a job, and it wasn't pushing Trunks around.  And frankly, her presence had saved him from starting a fight or seriously hurting one of them a time or two, as well.  The only bad point to her presence was that Trunks still could not feel like she was his sister, a fact that was making him very uneasy.

Attending to his grandfather was easy, almost to the point of being boring.  More often than not, he helped him dress or brought him food, made sure that there were fresh linens and that the room was clean, and that was all there was to do.  He had time to read, so he picked a couple of books on etiquette, Saiyan nobility and other social structure books, and he began to learn just as Bardock had wanted him to do.

But he made time for his other lessons, too; the ones that Kakkarot had shown him.  He had enough time to mediate as much as he wanted, and his room was just large enough to do some small practices in.  He even managed to slip down to the sparring arena from time to time to watch the nobles practice, and he picked up some moves just by watching them.  He was becoming stronger every day, in mind and body.

For the most part, the good outweighed the bad, and other than some momentary lapses of panic or worry, he was increasingly content with his situation.  In fact, he was just starting to get used to it when it all changed again.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught Trunks' attention, and he gave a frustrated sigh as he let the Saiyan hook his foot around Trunks' ankle and sweep him to the ground.  It was Dyl, of course; this blind corner was one of his favorite ambush spots.  _At least I have dirty towels this time, instead of soup_, Trunks thought as he tumbled to the floor, scattering the towels in a fabulous arc.  He had also learned that if he let them have a good laugh at his expense, they went away sooner.

"Too slow, as always, human," Dyl said, sneering down at him.  "You have to be faster if you want to keep being Lord Vegeta's attendant."

"Lord Vegeta has no complaints with my service," Trunks said as he twisted away from the Saiyan and surged to his feet, waiting for the next assault. 

Dyl kicked a towel.  "You've made quite a mess, boy," he said haughtily.  "You need to clean this up before Betez finds it."

Trunks winced, making no attempt to hide it.  Betez was the Head Servant, and she did beat slaves for making messes.  He had avoided her, so far, and he aimed to keep it that way, but he had a gut feeling that he wouldn't get much clean as long as Dyl was here.  But there was no choice in the matter; it was mid-afternoon, when Betez made her rounds.  If he delayed too long, she would find him for sure.  With an angry grunt, he knelt and began to pick up the towels.

He had half of them in a rough pile on the floor with Dyl kicked him in the ass, knocking him forward onto his face.  Trunks snapped; without any conscious decision to do so, he engaged his flight as he shoved himself off the floor, coming up in a spin.  He didn't try to straighten up from there; instead he drove his heel into Dyl's nose, which flattened with a loud crunch.  The flat-footed Saiyan actually flipped backwards once and landed on his face.

With a scream, the servant bounced to his feet, clenching his fists in rage.  "You are going to die, you little shit!" he howled, and hurled himself at Trunks.

Trunks was surprised, not at the speed at which Dyl moved, but at how slowly he moved.  Without effort, Trunks ducked under a roundhouse punch, and blocked an up-thrust knee.  Before Dyl could do more, Trunks head butted the Saiyan, who reeled from the blow, and then swept him off his feet, twisting an arm behind his back.  

Trunks hunkered over the pinned Saiyan as realization hit him.  He had hit a Saiyan, and his life was now forfeit.  He briefly considered letting go of Dyl and hoping to persuade him not to report this, but then Trunks realized that he didn't want to beg Dyl for his life; he would make Dyl beg.

"Quite a predicament, here," Trunks murmured, and his words seemed to wake the servant from his daze.

"I'm going to kill you!" Dyl snarled, trying to break the arm lock that he was in.  With a cold smile, Trunks twisted the arm a bit harder.  Dyl squeaked in pain, and Trunks backed off a little. 

"I don't think that you can," Trunks said, gloating clear in his voice.  "If you were obviously superior, then you would have me in the pin, no?  You know, if an off-worlder who had no knowledge of humans or Saiyans saw this fight, he might think I was the superior being, given how fast I put you down.  Oh, yes, and broke your nose."

"I'm going to tell!" Dyl yelped, wiggling some more. 

"Really?" Trunks beamed.  "Can I be there when you do?  Because I want to hear you tell Betez or any other Saiyan that you were beat by a slave.  I want to see the looks on their face when you tell them that a human beat you up and pinned you to the floor in just a few seconds."

Dyl fell silent and stopped squirming; the only movement and sound from him now was his heavy breathing.

"I have a better idea," Trunks murmured into the Saiyan's ear.  "I'll never mention this if you don't, and I'll never hurt you again unless you hurt me first.  Deal?"  Dyl was silent for a long moment, but he reluctantly nodded his head.  "Good, now swear it on your House."

"I swear on my House," Dyl ground through clenched teeth.

"Excellent," Trunks said, releasing the Saiyan and standing up quickly.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to."

It wasn't until Dyl had slunk away and Trunks was in the line at the laundry room with the gathered towels that he comprehended what had happened.  He had defended himself against a Saiyan and won.  He had known that he would win against a third-class, but to actually experience it!

He was still wearing a proud smile as he returned to the King's room with the clean towels.  He glanced quickly around the room for his grandfather; he wasn't in here, but the sound of running water was coming from the bathroom.  _I guess he couldn't wait for me to bring more towels after all_, Trunks thought as he rounded the corner to the bathroom.

Bloody water ran over the edge of the tub, staining the white floor a delicate pink color.  The dagger on the floor beneath Lord Vegeta's limp hand was washed nearly clean by the water.  The former King was slumped against the back of the tub, his wet clothes clinging to him with a fine red tint.

"Grandfather!" Trunks screamed, panicking for a second, his mother's blood-soaked body flashing before his eyes.  Reason flooded back to him, even as his adrenaline and heart rate sky-rocketed.  He dashed forward and dropped to his knees in the water, dropping the towels next to him.  Desperately, he grabbed for his Grandfather's thumb. 

Blood dripped slowly over his fingers from the long, straight gashes up the arm.  Trunks felt tears rise as he searched for the pulse.  "Please, don't let me find another person dead," he murmured.  "Please--" A sudden beat under his fingers was what he was waiting for, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he felt it.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He let himself float up into the air, still holding the pulse with his fingers; once he was high enough, he stuck his foot out and hit the wall communicator.  "Medical emergency, medical emergency.  Patch me through to Bardock immediately."  The automated system was silent for a second, then clicked.  Bardock's voice flowed out of the wall unit, familiar and reassuring.  "Trunks?"

"Lord Vegeta is badly hurt," Trunks said, setting his feet on the floor and grabbing a towel.  He ripped it apart and began to wrap the wounds, tightening them as much as he dared.

"Where are you?" Bardock asked.

"Lord Vegeta's room--"

"On my way," Bardock said, and the communicator went silent.  Trunks continued to work, wrapping the arm as best as he could.  When he was done, he started on the other arm, which also had long gashes on it.  He was nearly done when Bardock burst into the room, dragging his equipment behind him.

"Get him on the bed, Trunks," Bardock snapped, reaching for the Lord's arm.  Trunks took the other, and they moved him over together.  Towton was in the bedroom, preparing several syringes.

"What do you want me to do?" Trunks asked, hovering out of Bardock's way.

"Stand at the door, don't let anyone in except the King," Bardock said, not looking up.  He was peeling back the bandage; when he saw the wound, he hissed with surprised disdain.

Trunks was by the door, but he was close enough to hear Towton say, "Sir, those wounds are self-"

"I know what they are," Bardock growled.  "Give me the laser suture; we have to stop the bleeding and then he'll need a transfusion of blood – he's T-positive."

Trunks leaned wearily against the door, wondering why his grandfather would try to kill himself.  Suicide was a terrible dishonor – warriors should be killed by their enemy, not by their own hand.  It was alright to commit suicide if your death took out an enemy as well – that was honorable.  But to cut yourself open and bleed away – it was unthinkable.

Finally, Bardock stepped away from the bed and waved Trunks over.  "What happened?"

"He wanted to take another bath," Trunks said, fighting to keep his voice steady; seeing his grandfather lying so still while hooked up to so many line and tubes was distracting.  "But there were no more clean towels, so I went down to Laundry for more.  There was a long line; I had to wait for a while.  When I came back, he was in the tub, like when you first came in."

Bardock nodded wearily, rubbing at his eyes with his hands.  "M'kay," he muttered, his voice both tired and frustrated.

"What now?" Trunks ventured after a moment of silence.

With a sigh, Bardock began detailed instructions for the care of Lord Vegeta.  Trunks took careful notes on each step, simply relieved that he would be allowed to continue to care for his grandfather.


	11. Chapter 9 A Party

It was a week before Lord Vegeta woke up, and Trunks was later grateful that no one else had been there. The first words out of the Saiyan's mouth were, "You called me grandfather, boy. Why?"

Trunks froze, stumbling mentally for a good excuse. "Well," he finally said, feeling his face flush crimson, "if the King is the father of all Saiyans, and you're his father, then you're the Grandfather of all Saiyans, right?"

Lord Vegeta stared at him for a second his face emotionless. Finally, he growled, "Just help me free of this stuff." He began pulling at the tubes without waiting for Trunks.

As he was removing all the medical equipment, Trunks tried to bite back his questions. But finally, curiosity overwhelmed his good sense, and he blurted out, "Why did you do it?"

Lord Vegeta glanced up at him, his face expressing surprise for a second. Then it was gone, and he growled, "Why do you care? You're just a slave; who you actually serve shouldn't concern you."

"Wait a second," Trunks snapped, earning another look of surprise. "I care for my own reasons. If you don't want to tell me, then fine. But don't think that just because I'm a slave I'm just an emotionless robot who is just doing what he's told." There was a weighty silence, and Trunks quickly added, "Your Highness."

Lord Vegeta stood up, towering over the shorter slave. "Boy, someone should put you in your place," he growled. "I should, but I don't care enough to bother." He stalked past Trunks, but the slave was relentless, twisting to follow the former King.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Trunks snapped angrily, trailing after him. "You don't care about anything. You mope about here like your life is over--"

"It is over!" Lord Vegeta spun to scream at him. "It is over! I should be dead!"

"Why?" Trunks shouted back. "Who told you that?"

Vegeta threw his arms out in frustration. "No one told me anything!" he bellowed. "It is the way of things. My son should have killed me when he took the crown, but no! That brat wanted me to suffer. And I am suffering. I would be happier dead!"

"Then why don't you act like a Saiyan and make him suffer?" Trunks asked, crossing his arms defensively. "Make him wish he had killed you."

Lord Vegeta stared at the slave, his eyes wide in astonishment. "What?"

Trunks shrugged. "Go to parties, have fun. If he wants you to suffer, and you don't, he doesn't get the satisfaction. Offer him advice. Butt into all his affairs. Tease him. Do whatever gets him riled up."

"He won't tolerate that for long," Lord Vegeta growled, then trailed off as a thought occurred to him.

"So then he kills you, and you get what you want," Trunks said, trying to keep his voice level. He really doubted that King Vegeta would kill his father, though if it got Lord Vegeta living again, it would be worth the risk. "If you keep going the way that you have been, you'll just make him happier."

Vegeta stared at the boy for a second, and asked, "Who are you really?"

"Just a slave sir, but a smart one," Trunks answered evenly.

Lord Vegeta stared into the distance for a long moment and said, "Parties? What have I been invited to?" His voice held a note of intrigue, and Trunks felt his heart swell with hope. He had long wanted to shake his grandfather out of this depression that held him, and he was happy to see what could be the first steps of that.

"The royal costume party," Trunks offered. Seeing the look of disdain that passed over Lord Vegeta's face, he quickly added, "You could go as a caricature of _him_."

Lord Vegeta stared at him, and then began to laugh, a deep, true, hearty laugh. It was the best sound Trunks had ever heard.

His hair was tinted with red, orange and yellow, and the boy had shaped it into dancing flames. A crimson, almost purple, cape hung from his shoulders, and his body armor was a deep midnight blue, nearly black over the white bodysuit. A fake crown was jammed down over the hair, forcing some of the hair sideways before the boy had used the colored hair grease to arc it back up. The boy had a fair artistic eye, and the hair didn't look bad. Lord Vegeta could have had a professional make it look almost real, but he didn't want to take any chance that the stylist might let his son know his big surprise.

Trunks was grinning up at him, nodding approvingly, careful not to touch anything. "Well, I don't think that you'll fool anyone, but it sure is funny."

"I look like an idiot," Lord Vegeta said with a grin. "Good work, boy. You'll come down five minutes after I do, correct?"

"And I'll pick another noble and follow him tonight, though, I'll be honest; I don't think you're going to fool anyone," Trunks finished. Leaning over the sink, he began to wash the colored hair grease off his hands. Lord Vegeta watched him circumspectly, wondering again why he didn't see the obvious earlier.

Of course, the boy had offered a large clue himself when he had slipped up and called him Grandfather.

_My grandson_, he thought, hiding a sad smile. And it was so clear – his son's reaction, the similarity between his son and the boy, and the instant, desperate affection that the boy held for him. Watching the lad frown slightly as he focused on getting the thick grease off, Lord Vegeta could see his son's face surrounding those woman's eyes. _Vegeta, why didn't you tell me that you had gotten her with child?_

Regret passed through the old man, and he sighed wearily. He should have done things differently – he was so determined that his son would be the Legendary, that he had ignored everything else, including his son. He had driven his son away from him, and then driven his son's possible mate from him. Or did this boy prove that they were mates in truth?

_I have to talk to Vegeta about this_, he thought. _I have to find out if he was bound to the woman or not._ If he was, then what does that mean for his lad, and for Prince Vegeta?

Or did he even have to ask Vegeta?

"Boy, what day did your mother die on?" Lord Vegeta asked, still watching the child of his child.

The lad stiffened, like he always did when his mother was mentioned. With an audible gulp, he said, "Four days before I came here, Lord Vegeta." That confirmed it, as far as Lord Vegeta was concerned; his son had fallen ill that night and nearly died. A bond-mate's death would be the only physical aliment that could bring a Saiyan as strong as the Legendary down.

Lord Vegeta grunted and put his hand on the lad's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Trunks glanced up at him, surprise and a touch of remaining grief clear on his face. "I've been thinking, lad," Lord Vegeta said, turning the conversation away from Bulma's death. "You were right; I am the Grandfather of all Saiyans, so drop this Lord nonsense. From now on, everyone will call me Grandfather Vegeta."

"Yes, Grandfather Vegeta," the boy said, joy blooming in his eyes. Vegeta felt his heart tug with easily-given affection; even his emotions recognized his own bloodline. Or it could be that he was a lonely, broken old man who craved affection as much as this lonely slave.

Strange, when he had been the King, he had denied all of his emotions; now, he was too weak to resist them, and he didn't mind at all. Seeing his grandson's smile was worth a thousand legendaries. What would his son's smile be worth?

Trunks slipped into the Grand Dining Room through the servant's entrance and gave the room a quick glance, looking for his grandfather or anyone else he knew. But the costumed Saiyans were everywhere – flashes of eye-wrenching color and streaks of glittering metallics caught his eyes at every turn, as distracting as they were concealing. With a silent shrug, he picked the nearest noble of similar height and build to Grandfather Vegeta and moved to stand behind him. He briefly allowed himself to wonder if this man's servant was following Grandfather.

_Wow, they sure do go all out when they party_, Trunks thought, staring around the room. The massive wooden table had been removed from the room to make space on the floor, and smaller tables heaped with food surrounded the room. Servants milled through the costumed crowd, offering drinks on small silver trays. A large orchestra played in the corner of the room, nearly drowned out by the roar of voices, but a large clear area in front of the band was filled with dancers.

Suddenly, gloved hands slipped over his eyes, and a voice murmured in his ear, "Guess who?" The voice was strange, almost buzzing, and completely unfamiliar.

"Um, I don't know," Trunks said, ducking gently under the hands so that he could look at the person who had grabbed him. It was a female Saiyan in a skin-tight bird-of-prey costume, a mask covering her features and a hood covering her hair. Her tail was cleverly hidden in the bird's tail of the costume. The one feature he could see was her eyes, which were the typical Saiyan black. "Your voice is unfamiliar, My Lady." He figured it was safe to address her as a noble; if she were a servant, she wouldn't be in costume, and he didn't think any second-classes were invited to this party.

"You know me," she said in a teasing tone, running a hand down his cheek. Trunks felt his eyes widen as he stared down at her; was she flirting with him? Sometimes nobles took a slave as a lover, but Trunks hadn't thought it would happen to him. He could, he realized with a rush of anticipation, finally experience sex, something he had always been curious about. And if he was willing, and she was willing, what could it hurt?

"Well," he said with a little smile as he took her hand and kissed the gloved palm lightly in a gesture of respect, "be that as it may, you have an excellent costume; I'm sure that no one will guess who you are. You say that I should know, but I can't place you."

She laughed lightly and tapped her cheek. "Voice modulator," she admitted unrepentantly, and the strange distortions were finally explained. She leaned forward and put a hand on his chest. "Come with me."

"Where?" he asked, his eyes darkening and his voice becoming heated. She was! She was expressing interest, and if he was lucky, he would soon know what sex was like.

"To a room, where you can try to guess who I am by touch," she murmured, putting her other hand on his chest while the first slid down to his stomach, flirting with his belt.

"I think I have to work," he whispered, sliding a hand down her shoulder to the small of her back. "Can we meet later?"

"No one will miss you," the mystery woman whispered back. Her voice changed, became slightly pleading. "I've been watching you for a while now. I want you right now; I can't wait."

Please review if you are reading – reviews keep me writing. It's easier to work on this when I feel like someone else is appreciating it. Thanks! PK


	12. Chapter 10 A Mistake

"No one will miss you," the mystery woman whispered back.  Her voice changed, became slightly pleading.  "I've been watching you for a while now.  I want you right now; I can't wait."

It was becoming harder to think; all he could focus on was the curve of her body in the suit.  "Alright, if you say I won't be missed," he caved to her suggestion.

With an excited giggle, she pulled him out of the room into the side hallway, and Trunks had to laugh too.  He was going to be initiated into the biggest of all adult secrets!

She stopped in front of one of the doors in the hallway and put her ear to it.  Trunks recognized it as one of the smaller sitting rooms.  "Um, shouldn't we go somewhere more private?" he asked nervously.

She turned the knob and opened the door.  "This one has a lock on it," she said, clicking the bolt over so that it would automatically latch.  With a jerk of her head, she added, "Come on in, Sky Eyes."

Trunks hurried into the room, never taking his eyes off of her.  She pushed the door shut, and the room fell into complete darkness. "Hey!" he yelped.

"I said by touch, not by sight," her voice carried forth in the dark.  There was a rustling of cloth, and then she was standing next to him, touching his arm. 

He reached out and caught her, turning them both so that they were facing each other.  With a triumphant grin, he ran his hands over the body suit up to her face.  Instead of hitting a mask, he was touching skin, and he sighed with pleasure at the sensation.  His thumb found the edge of her lips, and he used that as a guide to kiss her.  It was a heady experience, sweet and maddening at once, only slightly spoiled when he bumped his tongue against the voice modulator. 

"Any guesses?" her voice startled him, but he couldn't mind.

"Nope," he murmured, trailing kisses down her face.  He wanted to continue down her neck, but the suit was in the way.

"Another clue, then," she whispered and he felt her move.  The body suit shifted away from her neck, and Trunks' breath escaped him as he felt her skin under his mouth. 

It became a blur of sensation – her skin under his hands, her hands and mouth on his skin, the taste of her, the feel of her – he was lost in a dizzying swirl of ecstasy.  He felt so awkward, so clumsy – but she was patient and kind, and it was everything that he had thought it was, more than he had been told; he wanted to stay here forever, where it all felt so right, so good.  With a last rush of pleasure, it was done though, and he lay back as she rolled over to lie next to him.

"Any guesses?" she murmured in the darkness, and Trunks smiled drowsily.

"Nope," he sighed back, his eyes seeking her in the dark, even though he couldn't see her.  His hand, surprisingly heavy, moved on its own, sliding up her back.

"Do you need another clue?" she laughed, but it was a kind laugh, and he took no offense.

"No, I just need a nap.  That was – Wow," he finished, shifting so that he was facing her.

"A nap?  But you haven't guessed who I am, and you can't leave until you do!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arm and her leg over him.

"Really?" he asked, his voice mock-helpless.  "That's not much of an inducement to guess correctly."

"Sorry," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him.  He responded back, his sleepiness fading as his body responded to stimuli again.  With a sigh, he ran his fingers up into her hair, past the crown hair into the downy—

Trunks froze for a heartbeat, his heart pounding.  His hand felt once more to be sure.

He heard her take the voice modulator out.  "Is that enough of a clue for you, Trunks?" she asked softly as she nuzzled his arm, her voice all too familiar now.  

"Avia?" he squeaked, panic and nausea chasing pleasure away.

"Correct, Sky Eyes," she giggled, kissing him on the neck.  "Took you long enough."  He pushed away from her, fumbling for his clothes in the dark.  "Trunks, what is wrong?"

"Avia, I can't—we shouldn't have--" his stomach twisted, and he swallowed painfully against his rising gore.  His hand came down on the rim of a trash can, and he gave up, vomiting into the bin. 

"Trunks, are you alright?" Avia's concerned voice carried to him; Trunks couldn't do more than shake his head, which she couldn't see in the dark.  As if she had thought the same, the lights snapped on, and Trunks was forced to face the truth; his half-sister stood in the room, black eyes – _contacts, of course _– locked on him.  "What is wrong?"

Trunks averted his gaze, grabbing at his suit and yanking it on.  "I shouldn't have--" His bile rose again, and he stopped, forcing it back down.  "I have to go."

"Wait," she said and grabbed his arm.  "Come see me tomorrow when you feel better."  She moved closer to him, a soft smile on her face.  "I enjoyed this, and would like to meet again."

"We can't," Trunks said flatly, forcing all emotion out of his voice.  "Never again."

She drew back from him, hurt eclipsing her face.  "What?  Why?" she hissed, her voice growing angry.

"I can't," he said with finality, pulling away from her and escaping into the hall.  The pain flowing from her, almost tangible, was too much for him to stay near, and he needed space to clear his mind, to forget—

_I slept with my sister._

His stomach churned again, and Trunks raced down the hall away from her, dashing into the restroom.  He barely made into a stall to vomit again, the burning acid racing up his throat.  Worse, the pain and the unpleasant surprise and everything hit him, and he felt uncontrollable tears stream down his face.  "Mom, I need you," he sobbed as he sagged against a wall, shaking with pain and emotion.  She would have known what to do, how to help him.

The bathroom door snapped open, and two Saiyan Guardsmen walked in, third classes from their rank.  "What do we have here?" the first asked, grinning down at Trunks unpleasantly.  Trunks hurriedly wiped his face, stifling further tears – it was never good to show weakness to a Saiyan.

"Are you crying for your mommy?" the other asked, and Trunks shook with rage.  "Oh, watch out, he's about to blow!"

"Look at those eyes!" the first added.  "So big and pretty, so delicate!"

"So familiar," the second finished, "like that slave woman we had fun with."  Trunks' head snapped up, but neither man noticed.  "Should we do him too, or wait for our buddy?"

"I ain't waiting; he took more than his share last time, and I'm not going to let him do that again," the first growled and grabbed at Trunks.  "Come here, boy – I have an itch you're going to scratch."

Trunks didn't think – it was much like the fight with Dyl.   He was just suddenly enraged, tired of being harassed, abused and used.  All of his frustrations with Avia, his seething anger at all the inequalities and the re-wakened pain of his mother's death combined, and Trunks grabbed the golden light eagerly.

The first Guardsman grabbed the slave's arm, but a sudden explosion of power threw him backwards into his companion.  He tried to see what had happened, but it was all light and fire, and the Guardsman was shocked to discover that he was afraid.  He shielded his eyes with his hands, but all he could see was a form of golden power.

"My mother was worth more than you'll ever be," a powerful voice growled.  "You should be more careful about whom you kill."  Then the Guardsman's world shattered in a scream of fire.

Prince Vegeta leaned against the wall of the dining hall, trying to look as disinterested as his father was, but he didn't feel disinterested at all.  In truth, he wished that he could be out on the floor, costumed like Avia and enjoying himself, but according to his father, it wasn't seemly for him to "cavort".

He sighed and adjusted his position slightly so that it wouldn't look like he was leaning against the wall, a practice that his father hated.  "A real warrior doesn't need a wall to lean against, brat, he is what walls should lean on!" Prince Vegeta mimicked his father as best he could while speaking in an undertone.  He didn't quite have his father's gravely voice, but he was sure that if he got old enough, he could learn to speak that way too.

One of the younger Saiyan nobles slid up to him, flouncing her breasts at him and batting her eyes.  He gave her a smirk, not realizing that it was a carbon copy of his father's smirk.  She seemed to take this as encouragement, and moved closer to him.  Vegeta sighed without changing his expression.  He wasn't in the mood for this – the fact that she was making it so easy took most of the fun out of it for him.

He tilted his head just right, causing the dim lights in the room to catch in his eyes, refracting like an animal's.  She stopped, her smile fading, her eyes locked on his unnatural ones.   His smirk deepened as dropped him a hasty bow and scuttled away into the crowd.  It wasn't like she wanted him anyway and that knowledge removed his smirk completely.  She wanted the prince, but she didn't want the Montessi prince.

He shrugged it off, not really needing a sexual release right now.  And even if he did, it was frankly easier to find a willing servant or, if he were looking for something different, a slave.  They were usually more concerned about him than about who he was, and were more fun in bed anyway.

Stifling another bored sigh, he pulled out his scouter and affixed it to his face.  Checking to see if anyone had recently increased their power was more interesting than leaning against a wall and being bored.  He increased its range to maximum – it was always fun to see "through walls" and spot someone across the palace using the scouter.  Hey, maybe he'd find where Avia had gotten off to.  He grinned as he wondered if she had finally caught that slave in whom she was so interested. 

He panned the scanner idly across the room, giving it time to re-focus and re-measure occasionally.  A sudden spike of in the numbers on the scouter caught his attention, and he focused in on that. 

And realized that the impossible had occurred.  The numbers were extraordinary; numbers like his father would throw out when he was the Legendary.  But his father was sitting in the King's chair in the Dining Hall, watching the room with boredom.  There was another Legendary?!

"No!" he hissed, his stomach clenching with desperation.  "I was supposed to be the next Legendary!"  He turned and dashed out of the Hall, using the scouter to hone in on the second Legendary.

He ducked down a side hall, the scouter's numbers still rising.  These were numbers that his father could put out when he was enraged!  He rounded a corner, and he didn't need the scouter anymore; he could hear the pulsing buzz of the Legendary's aura.  The sound was coming from one of the restrooms, and Prince Vegeta pushed the door open without thinking.

The Legendary stood in the center of the room, his hand extended toward the far wall.  A large section of wall was gone, and Vegeta could only gape at the power this being had.  When it faced him, Vegeta had more reason to stare – it was the human slave who glowed with Vegeta-sei's most holy power!


	13. Chapter 11 A Proposal

The Legendary stood in the center of the room, his hand extended toward the far wall.  A large section of wall was gone, and Vegeta could only gape at the power this being had.  When it faced him, Vegeta had more reason to stare – it was the human slave who glowed with Vegeta-sei's most holy power!

In that moment, the young prince's mind could have gone one of two possible ways.  Part of him was instantly outraged at a slave wielded this power, and his first instinct was to cry out against this person.  The other part of him was instantly afraid of this slave – would not this be the person who replaced him on Vegeta-sei's throne?

But there was another part to this boy, one that nearly been socialized out of him.  This part recognized that he needed the help of this person, and that realization began the birth of a true king.

The door opened, and Trunks turned to face it, adrenaline pumping through his body.  The Prince stood there, gaping up at him.  _You have to kill him, so he can't share your secret_, a voice in his head told him.  Trunks stared at his brother, unsure of what to do, and for a moment, the blackest mood that he had ever felt gripped him.  _Some family I have.  My father is a pernicious bastard, my sister just seduced me, and my brother is going to kill me for being a half-breed. _

Then the expression on the Prince's face changed from rage to supplication. "Train me, please!  Show me how to be the Legendary!" Prince Vegeta cried, raising one hand in entreaty, and Trunks' black mood fled.  With a soft sigh of surrender, Trunks released the light.  He could not kill anyone who was pleading for his help.

"I don't think anyone would allow that," Trunks answered softly, watching the young Saiyan for the inevitable moment – the moment when his brother would try to blackmail him, when Trunks would have to decide if he really could kill this golden-eyed child to protect himself.

"Nobody has to know about it," Vegeta said confidently.  Seeing the doubt on the slave's face, his confidence faded, and he continued, "I will keep it secret, and you have free time, caring for Grandfather."

"I don't know if I can teach you this," Trunks admitted with a frown.  "No one taught me, I just did it when--" He cut off, the memories of finding the light within himself too painful.

The boy was silent for a moment.  Finally, he said quietly, "I have to learn how to be the Legendary.  My father says that I have to learn it on my own, as he did.  But I've tried and tried, and I know that I need help!  Please, I have to become the Legendary!  I won't beg, but I will be honest – I need you to help me with this."  The prince's clenched fists shook, and he bowed his head so that the gathering tears of frustration would be hidden.

Trunks stared down at the teenager, remembering the time that he had asked Kakkarot to teach him to fight.  That unexpected connection with his unknown brother wore down the final doubt.  And besides, the more cynical part of him added, having the Prince owe him a favor could be handy. With a grunt, he shook that thought away disgustedly.  That was the way that the slaves and servants thought.  People might call him a slave, but he knew what he was.

"Fine," Trunks said.  "Meet me in your rooms tonight.  I'll come once Lord Vegeta is asleep."

Prince Vegeta snarled in frustration and hurled a pillow across the room.  As it cleared the edge of the balcony, he shot a beam of ki at it, disintegrating it.  It wasn't the first thing he had destroyed in the last two hours, but it was the biggest.

"Feel better?" Trunks asked, keeping his voice patient.  He was only partly successful – the prince whirled on him with rage in his eyes.  Trunks merely raised one eyebrow, not showing anything other than purposeful calm, and Vegeta took his cue, dropping back into his cross-legged position.

"Why is this so hard?" Vegeta half-whined, half-snarled. 

Trunks smiled, remembering his own frustration at mastering this skill.  "Maybe we should do something more physical for a while," he said, hoping to pacify his younger brother.

To his credit, Vegeta shook his head. "No, I've learned lots of physical stuff, and besides, you said this is the foundation.  Nothing else is going to do much good until I learn it."

Trunks shrugged and offered, "Learning this stuff is hard.  It took me a few days."

"How many days exactly?" Vegeta asked, his eyes narrowing into a stubborn glare.

"Umm, six, I think," Trunks said, hoping that was the truth.  It had been a while ago.

Vegeta smirked and sat up straighter.  "Then I'll do it in five."

Trunks nodded, slightly irked.  "Then you'd better concentrate.  Take a deep breath, and clear your mind."  Vegeta did so, closing his eyes.  Trunks continued talking, walking him through the technique to sense ki without a scouter.

"I did it in four," Vegeta said when Trunks walked into his room four nights later.  Trunks hesitated, clearly put off by the proclamation and said, "Fine, hot stuff.  Show me."

Vegeta frowned.  "How can I show you?"

"Where is the nearest source of ki to us right now?" Trunks asked, aware of Queen Cyrane moving in her room above them.

"My mother, over us," Prince Vegeta said smugly.  The smirk widened when Trunks frowned.

"Fine," Trunks said finally, his tone grudging.  "Lets move somewhere else; your room is about to become too small for the next step of training."

"There is a small arena down in the sparring area that is private," Vegeta said.  "It isn't popular because it doesn't have an observation balacony."

Trunks nodded.  It sounded like it would work, if only because most Saiyans preferred to have an audience when they sparred.  "Lead the way, Your Highness."

Vegeta paused and turned to Trunks with a slight frown.  "Call me Vegeta when we spar," he ordered, his face closed and impassive.  There was an emotion in his eyes and voice that Trunks couldn't place; it strangely warmed the half-Saiyan, though, and he took comfort in the sensation.

"Yes, Vegeta," Trunks answered with a nod of head.  Prince Vegeta moved out of the room, using his new-found ki-sensing ability to check around corners and in rooms without Trunks telling him.  Trunks was pleased to see that his pupil was already grasping the tactical advantages of not needing the scouter.

Vegeta lead him through long corridors, skirting the busier hallways.  Finally, he pushed a dirty iron door open, waving Trunks in past him.  Trunks stepping into a room that was as vertical as the rest of Vegeta-sei's architecture; a high vaulted ceiling rose above the sand floor. The walls were made of sandstone, and with a shaft of afternoon sun pouring in through the skylight, the room was a glowing golden color.

"Ok," Vegeta said, turning to face Trunks.  "We're in a bigger place.  Now what?"

"Empty your mind, just as if you're going to sense ki," Trunks instructed as he dropped into a fighting stance.  Vegeta quickly set himself up, frowning as he concentrated on keeping his mind focused and his body ready.  "Don't worry if you can't immediately—"

"I can," Vegeta snarled irritably.  "Just tell me what else to do."

"Attack me," Trunks said with a smile, his own mind calm and focused.  Vegeta grinned eagerly and bounced forward, his fists feinting a strong double one-two while he actually swung his knee into Trunks' side.  To his dismay, Trunks saw through his feint and blocked his knee with his thigh, swept Vegeta's fists away from himself and chopped an open hand at Vegeta's neck.  The chop stopped short, and Trunks said with a bit more pleasure than necessary, "You're dead, Vegeta."

"Damn it!" Vegeta snarled, pushing away from Trunks and dropping back into stance. 

Instead of joining him, Trunks asked, "What happened?"

Vegeta straightened up, frowning angrily.  "You saw what I was going to do."

"Partially correct," Trunks said pleased to see that the prince's earlier smugness had faded.  "I saw that you were setting both maneuvers up, but I sensed that your ki was gathering in your legs."

Vegeta gaped at him, his anger gone as he asked Trunks, "You can do that?"

"And you'll be able to with enough practice, though it won't help too much if your opponent is so fast that you can't take advantage of it," Trunks said with a smile.  "Now do you understand why the ki-sensing was so important?"

Vegeta nodded, his chin squaring up as he dropped into a stance.  "Again, and show me how to sense what my opponent will do," he said.

Trunks nodded and dropped into another, more offensive stance.  As he opened his mouth to continue the lessons, the door to the arena popped open.  Both men whirled to see Avia in the doorway; with a scowl she snarled, "What in oblivion is going on here?"

Vegeta dashed over to his sister and pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind her.  "We were just…" his voice trailed off as he realized that the only good answer was not one he could give.

"We were just goofing around," Trunks said softly, his eyes fastened on Avia.  It was the first time he had seen her since _that_ time, and he was startled to find that he wanted her.  His body was responding to her in a way that was wrong, but he liked it.  _I'm really fucked up_, he thought, turning his head to stare at the wall.

"Mother and Father will not be pleased," Avia was growling at Vegeta, who was crossing his arms defensively.  "You have Nappa to spar with – what do you need a slave for?"

"Trunks is teaching me to fight," Vegeta rejoined, resentment heating his voice.  "I wasn't getting anywhere with Nappa; I had learned all that I could from him.  Trunks is helping me!"

"He's going to ruin your training," Avia snarled, pointing an angry finger at the quiet slave.

"You will not tell Father, Mother or anyone!" Vegeta hissed the order, leaning forward to emphasis his point. 

Avia leaned in as well, taking advantage of the slight height that she held over her younger brother.  "I will not allow you to throw your training away by 'learning' from an inferior creature."

"How do you know I'm inferior?" Trunks asked, and Avia turned her glare on him.

"You're a slave," she snarled, her voice patient as if explaining to a small child.  "If you weren't inferior, you wouldn't be a slave.  You have nothing to teach my brother."

"You don't know that," Trunks replied, refusing to show any hesitation or fear as he stared her down.  He didn't want to do this, but he had come to value his time with his brother; he wouldn't let Avia take their time away!  "You've never fought me."

"Stay out of this, human slave!" she shouted in his face.  She had so little regard for him that she whirled and began to walk back to Vegeta.  Suddenly, she spun back to him and said with a trembling voice, "I won't let you hurt this family anymore."  Her golden eyes shone with anger and pain – pain he had put there.

Trunks fought against the guilt that pounded through him.  "Avia, don't punish Vegeta for what I did to you.  It's different."

"I'd hope so," Avia hissed angrily, "though many don't see much of a difference."

"Avia," Trunks said, his voice exasperated, "you can spar with us, see that Vegeta isn't being ruined—"

"I'm good enough to fight, but not good enough to fuck?" she growled.

Vegeta dropped his head into his hands.  "Oh, for the love of All!  If you two are going to have a lover's quarrel, can I leave?" he moaned from the haven of his hands.

"We're not lovers!" Trunks squeaked, his face burning red.

"That is correct!" Avia snarled, her wrathful expression increasing with Trunks' denial.  "We are not anything!"

"But there is something going on," Vegeta persisted.  "I know, because you're red enough to dye your shirt pink, Trunks, and Avia's knuckles are bone-white."

Trunks' face flushed redder at Vegeta's proclamation, while Avia protested, "They am not!  And that's beyond the point.  I am going to talk to Mother."

"Wait!" Trunks said, desperate to stop her.  "What can we do to convince you that I can benefit your brother?"

"Nothing," she said coldly, but she had stopped, and was looking at him. 

"Spar with me, right now," Trunks offered.  "If you defeat me, I'll stop teaching Vegeta.  If I defeat you, you can't tell anyone our secret."

Avia's eyes narrowed as she considered this.  After a moment, she said, "Let's up the ante.  In addition to the terms you have offered, I offer these: if you defeat me, I'll submit to your training along with my brother.  If I win, you will become what I want you to be to me."

Thanks to all who have reviewed – your words of encouragement mean a lot to me.  Frankly, they help me keep going when I get bogged down.  Again, thanks so much.

PK


	14. Chapter 12 A Fight

Avia's eyes narrowed as she considered this.  After a moment, she said, "Let's up the ante.  In addition to the terms you have offered, I offer these: if you defeat me, I'll submit to your training along with my brother.  If I win, you will become what I want you to be to me."

Trunks swallowed and clarified, "You mean, your bed partner."

"Yes," she said with a nod.

Trunks pursed his lips as he considered the offer.  She would fight him if he agreed to the terms, and he knew that she was not as strong as he.  She had more training, but he should be able to take her on raw power alone.  "Alright," he finally said, fighting off a strange sense of fatality. 

She settled into a fighting stance and Trunks felt a surge of apprehension when he realized that he couldn't identify what she was doing.  She was in a horseman's stance, but her hands were open and hanging by her thighs.  It had the feel of something purposeful and formalized, but he wasn't sure what; he couldn't even tell if it was offensive or defensive.

He slid into a forward offensive stance and put his fists up to block his face.  Avia stood there a moment longer, and he felt the ki building in her. He increased his ki output, trying to match her somewhat.  He was sure that she was not fully powered up when she threw herself at him.

He held his ground and caught her arms as they swung up.  Using her own momentum, he twisted her past him, releasing her so that she could stumble away.  She turned back, faster than he expected, and kicked at his shin.  He instinctively jumped back, and knew immediately that it had been a mistake; the sense of ki in her arms flared and she slammed her palm into his nose as he was trying to regain his stance.

His world was reduced to the grinding pain in his face; involuntary tears were blurring his vision.  He had been hit before, but not in the nose, and he was now sure that it was the worst place to get hit next to the groin. "First blood is mine," Avia said triumphantly. 

Trunks reached up to his nose and felt the moisture there; his fingers were clearly red, even through his blurred vision.  He shook his head, clearing the water from his eyes and replied, "Yeah, that would mean something if we were fighting to first blood."

She smiled and dashed forward again, but this time Trunks was ready.  With a grunt, he jumped straight up and over her, kicking at her shoulder blades as he come down behind her.  Avia obviously didn't expect him to be able to fly, and he had her momentarily off-balance, stumbling forward.  He kicked at her shoulders again, driving her down into the sand of the arena floor.

She rolled and twisted impossibly fast, and Trunks gasped as she neatly recovered and jumped into a forward kick at his chest.  Trunks grabbed her foot, intending to throw her past him again, but she bent the captured leg, snapping her other foot up to kick at him.  He caught that one too, and held her tight for a second.

With a nasty, yet somehow attractive snarl, Avia bent herself backwards and punched into his knees.  With a yelp of pain – she had connected solidly with his shin – Trunks dropped kicked her across the room.  Despite the distance she achieved on the tumbling arc, she had twisted away from the blow itself and it hadn't done much.

Avia righted herself from her tumble with a flare of ki, stopping herself before slamming into the wall.  Her hair danced and trembled like a living creature, stirred by the ki emanating from her glowing body.  Her clothes and skin were dirty, but her golden eyes were shining with excitement, and she was grinning fiercely. 

Trunks found himself smiling back at her.  She was so beautiful like that, glowing and golden-eyed, that he just watched her quietly.  He was nearly caught off guard when she surged forward at him again.

This time the fighting was different; he was largely on the defensive from a hundred small, fast blows.  There were no large, sweeping moves.  Every blow was careful and planned; she was, he realized suddenly, testing him, pushing his speed and reflexes.  Before, she had been so sure that she could just sweep him out of the way that she hadn't bothered to really fight him.  The realization made him bristle with anger, and it was the catalyst for him to go on the offensive.

He pushed his power up rapidly, and heard Vegeta gasp as he sensed the increase.  Avia had the training, the finesse and the speed, but he had the power, and he was tired of not showing it.  With a snarl, he ducked easily behind Avia and slammed his fists into her shoulders as he drove both of his feet into the back of her knees.  With a startled grunt of pain, she fell face-first to the arena floor.

He didn't stop there either.  Trunks cut his flight and dropped onto her, further driving her into the dirt floor and pinning her there.  With a squeal, she spun under him, incredibly fast, and punched him in the right eye.  Trunks felt it swell instantly, but he ignored that, instead repaying her with a similar strike across the cheek.  "Yield!" he howled, finally trapping her legs so that she couldn't thrash as easily.

"Never!" she hissed at him, her eyes flashing with rage, still wiggling as much as she could. 

"I can't let you win, you know that," he whispered, his eyes leaving hers to trail down over her face with a strangely hungry expression.  He couldn't stop the look in his eyes, anymore than he could stop his pleasure at this contact with her.

"Then why?" she growled.  "Tell me why.  You owe me that much."

"I can't tell you," he said, his eyes coming back to hers.  "Please yield."

"I yield to no man," she snarled.

"Sister, you yield to Nappa all the time," Vegeta said from the side of the arena.

"As I said, no man," Avia said with a ghost of a smile.  Vegeta snorted sourly.

"Yield," Trunks breathed tensely.

"No," she answered just as quietly as she bucked fruitlessly against him again.

"Fine," Trunks answered, drawing his fist back.  He had to take her out; she wasn't going to step down.  It was still hard to slam his fist down into her face, and harder to do it again when she still glared stubbornly at him.  The ones after were easier; he just fell into a brutal rhythm.

Avia woke up slowly, feeling as if a large stone had been dropped on her – repeatedly.  She opened her eyes and glanced around herself, unsurprised to see that she was in a regeneration tank.  Her eyes dropped down through the murky liquid to stare at her hands.  Once, she had thought that she had good, strong hands, but now…  _He beat me_, she thought, disbelief curling up tightly in her stomach.  _A slave beat me!  _Someone tapped on the glass, and Avia glanced up, startled to see Queen Cyrane peering through the glass at her. 

"Mother?" she said, grimacing as the edges of the face mask pulled unpleasantly.  "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to wake up after getting your butt kicked by your brother," she said, her face crinkling into a relieved smile that Avia couldn't help but match, even as she flinched at her mother's statement. 

Cyrane laughed at Avia's expression.  Misinterpreting what Avia was actually feeling, the dark-skinned woman said, "Don't feel too bad!  It's not a dishonor to be beaten up by the soon-to-be-Legendary!"

Avia ducked her eyes down; her mother was also highly perceptive when it came to her children, and Avia had a secret to keep now.  Cyrane tapped on the glass again, and Avia reluctantly looked up to meet her gaze.  "Hey, it's a good sign for him to defeat elites older than himself," Cyrane said consolingly. 

Avia shook her head as the pain-haze fled further.  "Can I leave now?" she asked, looking past Cyrane for a technician. 

Cyrane nodded and turned to a person hidden behind the curve of the tank.  She nodded at them, and after a second, Avia's ears popped as the pressure in the tank changed and began to drain.  When the door popped open she stepped out, igniting her ki to dry herself and turned to the technician for a robe.

Trunks stood there, his hands on the panel, his eyes wide as they ran over her skin.  Avia gasped, wishing she had a towel; for the first time in her life, modesty mattered to her.  Standing before him, she felt naked in soul as well as in body – a unique experience for her.

With a sudden blush, Trunks glanced away, averting his eyes.  His discomfort didn't help her either, oddly enough.  His hands fumbled behind the console and pulled out a robe, which he thrust in her vague direction.

"What are you doing here?" Avia snapped at Trunks as she pulled the robe on. 

Cyrane blinked in surprise and looked at the man who had been standing in the console since she came in.  Avia wasn't surprised that she hadn't noticed Trunks; Queen Cyrane rarely paid attention to slaves at all.

"Grandfather asked me to sit down here and let him know when you awoke," he said, still not looking at her.  "He wants to see you, when you feel up to it."

"What does Grandfather Vegeta want?" Avia asked with surprise.  It wasn't like he had ever been very interested in her before.

"He doesn't tell me these things, Avia," Trunks sighed, looking at her finally.  He looked tired, worn out, and she wondered if her brother had been giving him enough time to sleep.

"Tell him I will be up to his rooms later today," Avia said, her tone stiff and formal.  Trunks bowed slightly and left the room.  Avia watched him go before leaving with her mother.

Avia sat before the Jazzicou board, wondering what was happening.  Lord – Grandfather, she mentally corrected herself – Vegeta was bent over the board, his frown of concentration creasing his face, making him look even older.  "Your move," he said with sudden briskness as he moved a piece.

Still feeling off-center from both the healing tank and the strange situation, Avia considered the board carefully.  To be honest, she wasn't sure that she could focus enough to play a strong game – Trunks' silent presence in the corner was distracting her badly.  But even if Trunks had not been there, she suspected that she would still be off-balance due to the situation.  In the fifteen years she had been at the palace, she had never spoken with the former King, or before been called into his presence.  What he wanted was a mystery, and the curiosity was eating her alive. 

Her fingers had settled on her Swordsman piece when Grandfather Vegeta suddenly asked, "Are you interested in any male?"

Again, thanks to all for the recaps – good, bad, they are all helpful.  But if you have a criticism, please feel free to say why you feel the way you do!  "Such-in-such character is dull," lets me know something is unpleasing about the character, but it doesn't tell me why they're boring.  Are they boring because they never do anything?  Are they boring because everything that falls out of their mouth is a platitude not fit for Bo Kent's mouth (obscure Smallville reference!)?  I mean it when I say criticism is welcome, but without the 'why,' it's just empty words that only cause me self-doubt.

Anyway, thanks for all the comments!  I do appreciate them.

PK


	15. Chapter 13 A Trip

Her fingers had settled on her Swordsman piece when Grandfather Vegeta suddenly asked, "Are you interested in any male?"

Shock wiped her mind in a second, and Avia felt herself flush with anger as her strategy slipped away from her.  Damn it, he had done that on purpose!  She glanced up at the former King, expecting to see a glint of competitive malice in his eye, but there was only a mild curiosity.  She glanced down at the board again, confused.  Maybe he hadn't done it on purpose.

Remembering that he had asked her a question, Avia softly answered, "Yes, there is a male that I am interested in, but he is not in me."

Grandfather Vegeta looked at her with shock and stated, "Why would any male not be interested?  The daughter of a king, a Saiyan woman in her prime." 

Avia shrugged.  "He won't say," she said matter-of-factly, but she heard the emotion in her voice that said it did matter to her.  Trunks shifted quietly in the corner, and she fought not to look at him.

Something flickered in her opponent's eyes, and the shock faded to be replaced with irritation.  Grandfather Vegeta reached across the board and clasped her hand gently.  "If he is meant to be your bond-mate, it will happen," he said consolingly.

Avia stared at him, startled into silence.  Grandfather had always been a withdrawn, taciturn man; this sudden ability to sympathize was shocking.  And then the enormity of what he had said hit her.  _Trunks, my bond-mate?,_ she thought to herself.  It was impossible and laughable, and she quickly dismissed the idea.  But on the heels of that dismissal came the unmistakable sense of loss.

Avia gave Grandfather a timid, slow smile.  She still wasn't sure that she could completely trust this near-stranger, but he seemed willing to try, and she, to her surprise, was willing to try too.

The game flew by, and though Avia lost, she still had enjoyed it very much.  Grandfather Vegeta was a tough opponent and just playing against him had taught her strategies that she never would have thought to use.  With a smile and a bow, she bid Grandfather Vegeta good-night.

Just as she was about to leave the room, a hand caught her by the arm, and she was spun into the shadows next to the door.  Her angry protest died on her lips when she met stormy blue eyes.  "What do you want?" she hissed, shooting a worried glance back into the room.

Trunks stared at her silently for a moment; then his arms snaked around her and pulled her close.  Surprised and far too pleased, she leaned into the embrace, enjoying it while she could.  "I would tell you if I could," Trunks whispered.

Angrily, Avia shoved away from him, noting that he only let her slide partly away; he still had a solid grip on her arms.  "That's really good to know, Trunks," she snarled, "without being remotely helpful."

"I'm doing what I can," Trunks sighed, looking more tired than frustrated.

"Except tell me what's actually going on," Avia shot back.  The grip on her arms tightened, and Avia hid her reaction to the strength in those hands.  Just who was this slave, that he could hold her with hands of stone?

"I can't!  God, Avia, how often am I going to have to say that?" Trunks hissed, his hands shaking her arms. 

"At least one more time, and probably more," she snapped, twisting her arms against his thumbs, trying to break lose of his grip.  But he held her fast, and with no apparent effort.

"Why can't you just accept what I say?" he growled.

"Would you accept it from me?  If I just said for no visible reason that I couldn't see you, after what we had?" she snarled, setting her feet and pulling against his arms.

Trunks released her suddenly, and she stepped back, rubbing her arms.  "I have much to do, my Lady," he said softly, his eyes downcast.  He slipped past her into Lord Vegeta's room, and closed the door in her face.

It hurt just as much as the door he closed on her heart.

The months rolled by with no change; Trunks and Avia were polite enough to one another, but there was always a tension between them – in the sparring arena, in private and just when they were in the same room.  It was a tension of unspoken words, of emotions bottled up without reprieve, of two people acutely aware of their loneliness. 

Prince Vegeta just rolled his eyes and waited for them to resolve it.  But as the three continued to move forward in their miniature conspiracy, events began to intrude upon them.

Queen Cyrane moved briskly down the hall, her steps almost a skip.  Her joyous gait matched her expression – she was nearly glowing with poorly suppressed delight.  _The mountains, the mountains!_, her heart sang, and she couldn't stop the whisper that escaped her, "Home."

She stepped into the fighting arena, pressing through the crowds of watchers to the front, her golden gaze sweeping the room.  To her surprise, there was no sign of either of her children.  A frown intruded, starting to disperse her happiness – where could they be?

She did spot a familiar face; with polite mumblings and gentle persistence, she pushed her way over to the tall hairless man leaning against the railing.  "Nappa," she said, not bothering to keep the bite out of her tone, "where are my children?"

Nappa winced at her tone as he straightened up and brushed his clothes clean of arena dirt.  "Your Highness," he said with no respect in the tone, "Prince Vegeta and Princess Avia have taken to training by themselves in one of the side arenas."

Cyrane felt her nostrils flare with irritation.  "And just how long have they been doing this?"

The giant of a Saiyan pretended to consider the question and then gloated, "About four months.  Did not the King tell you?"

"No, he did not," Cyrane said with forced indifference as she delivered her rebuttal, "but then if you had failed to be an adequate instructor, I can see that he might have tried to spare your pride."

"I did not fail," Nappa snarled, his face turning red.  "They decided to isolate themselves.  I advised against it, but King Vegeta felt that he would let them try it their way."

"Hmm," Cyrane grunted.  "Which room are they in?  I wish to speak with them."

Nappa smirked condescendingly at her as he answered, "But I'm afraid that I can't let you do that.  You know how the King feels about interruptions to training."  It was an old game with them; Nappa hid behind the King's authority and reminded just how much of an outsider she was in this place.  But he had made a mistake; today, Cyrane was not playing.

"Listen, you hairless son of a _cyrpo_," she snarled, calling her ki to her.  "I will speak to my children, and you will not stop me.  I am the Queen of all Saiyans, and you are little more than an elevated second-class!"

Nappa's fists clenched, but then his reason prevailed; he knew that she was stronger than he.  "They are in Arena 13, my Lady," he said sullenly.

"_Queen_," Cyrane snapped back.  "I am your Queen."

"Yes, my Queen," Nappa answered as he swallowed his pride and gave her a proper bow.

Without further acknowledgement to him, she swept out of the room, looking for Arena 13.  If she remembered right, it was the smallest one, a tiny bubble of a room with no observation railings or windows.  _Why in the Empire would my children be training in there?_

Trunks grinned insolently as two fists swung through the air just occupied by his chest.  The other two in the room weren't smiling at all as, together, they swung a kick at his legs.  But again, their intended target had moved.  It had been going like this for nearly an hour, with always the same result – Trunks was gloatingly smiling, and they were getting more frustrated.

But they got their opening when the door's latch popped up and Trunks dropped his ki and his guard, panic clear on his face.  A fist caught him on either cheek, and he collapsed, mostly out of reflex.

"Avia!  Vegeta!" Cyrane shouted in shock as she saw her children apparently assaulting one of the palace slaves.  "What in the name of All are you doing?"

"Mother!" Vegeta squeaked as he spun to face her, terror blooming across his features.

"We were--"Avia remembered then who was at her feet; not Trunks, the strange, too powerful person, but a palace slave.  She couldn't tell her mother who Vegeta and herself had been sparring against.

"It was a training game," Trunks said, his voice shaking and weak from fear.  How much had the Queen seen?  "They barely hit me."

"Are you alright?" Cyrane said, kneeling beside the slave.  Trunks kept ducking his head so that she wouldn't see that he wasn't injured.  But the Queen was persistent, and finally got a hand under his chin.  "You don't look badly hurt."  She helped him to his feet, which only embarrassed Trunks more.

"He told you, Mother, it was a training game," Vegeta said, trying to keep the sullenness out of his voice.

"We were practicing our control by not hitting him with any force," Avia added quickly.

Cyrane glared up at her children, her eyes flashing with rage.  "And what if you had not had control of your blows?  He is not a Saiyan; you could kill him with your foolish game!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, remembering all the times he had scraped his knuckles on that 'non-Saiyan's' skin.  He saw only a blur as his mother moved, and then he was lying on the sand, staring at the ceiling, his jaw aching.

Trunks took a step toward his younger brother, but Avia, thinking quicker than the demi-Saiyan, put a hand on his chest.  He glanced at her, and she shook her head gently.  She understood how he felt, but she knew her mother wouldn't seriously hurt Vegeta.  Cyrane missed the little scene behind her, her eyes focused on her son.

Prince Vegeta leapt to his feet, his face a mixture of surprised hurt and outrage.  "You struck me!" he hissed, disbelief clear in his voice.

"And you rolled your eyes at me like an insolent brat," Queen Cyrane replied coolly.  "Slaves are not to be treated as expendable, and if I ever see you treat one so inconsiderately again, I will do more than strike you!"

Prince Vegeta cut back his angry retort and dropped his head to stare at the ground.  He couldn't argue with his mother – not about Trunks.  Behind Cyrane, Avia stepped away from Trunks, ignoring her reluctance to stop touching him.

Queen Cyrane let the silence hang in the air for a moment to make sure that her children were done arguing with her before announcing, "I have some good news."

Vegeta glanced up at her, and Avia tilted her head inquisitively.  Cyrane was silent another moment to built the tension, then began.  She felt her face twitch into an involuntary smile as she said, "We're taking a trip to Torganga."

"Home?" Avia asked, her grin slowly widening as her mother's words hit her.  "We're going home!" she shrieked and threw her arms around Trunks.  He caught her, his face burning red as she bounced enthusiastically in his arms.  "I have to show you the Shout-back Cliffs, and the Burning Ice, and the fields of snowflowers!  Just wait, you'll love it there!  And then there's-"

Cyrane's eyebrows soared upwards as she watched her daughter promise to show a non-Saiyan slave everything, as if he were an old friend.  She glanced sideways at her son, who watching his sister with a frown.  The Queen flicked her hand at her son, catching his attention, and signaled him over to the side, leaving the two young people talking.  "Vegeta, what is going on with your sister?" Cyrane asked him softly when they were away from the couple.

Vegeta shrugged and said, "She likes him, but he's holding back for some reason."  Seeing his mother questioning look, he shrugged again and said, "I don't know.  I personally think he's doing what's right – he is a slave, and she an elite, but you know how Avia can be.

Cyrane frowned as she turned her attention back to the couple, realizing with a sinking dread that her son was wrong.  Avia held the young slave's attention completely, a little smile on his face.   But it was the look in his eyes that caused Cyrane's frown; she had once been looked at like that once, long ago.  That slave loved her daughter, and unless Cyrane was completely misreading her daughter, Avia more than returned the feelings.

_All that effort to protect her from heartache_, Cyrane thought, _and she goes and creates worse for herself._

Author's Notes:

I have found the way to make sure that you get no reviews – ask for a certain type of review.  ;P  That's right, not a one since last chapter.  Oh, well!  That's life.  On a side note, my sister is getting married in another town Tuesday, so I'll be there from Monday to Wednesday.  There will probably not be another chapter until Friday because of her nuptials (a couple of days to get more written after I get back, basically). 

Thanks for your patience and understanding. 

PK


	16. Chapter 14 A Discovery

Lord Vegeta watched his eldest grandson, who wasn't paying the slightest attention to the Jazzicou game.  Trunks was staring over the railing of the airship, watching the nobles whirl and flit around the massive vessel.  In particular, he was watching Princess Avia.

_So is that how it is?_, Grandfather Vegeta thought, hiding a knowing smile.  _At least he has good taste, even if he is reaching for the unobtainable._  With a soft sigh, he settled deeper into his deck chair, grateful for the sun-shielding canopy overhead.  He really should nudge the boy back to the game, but really, it was just a time-killer until they got to Torganga.  Seeing that the game wasn't going anywhere, Lord Vegeta let his gaze wander across the waste-land below the ship.

The sparse, hot sands flowed across the landscape, but here and there a dark rock thrust its way upward.  Those rocks would get more frequent the closer they moved toward the mountains; three days away by airship, they were only an occasional landmark. 

Quickly bored with the rocks and sand, Lord Vegeta raised his gaze to the Saiyan nobles flitting around the ship in their competitive game, trying to out-fly each other.  The airship crawled along at a sedate pace, ensuring that even the slowest noble wouldn't be outflown.  It also allowed the easily bored Saiyans a place to play and socialize rather than flying south in a ragged line.

A sad sigh from Trunks caught the old Saiyan's attention, and he glanced at his grandson.  The boy was watching the other nobles loop in the air with a wistful gaze.  Grandfather Vegeta blinked as the full realization of the boy's status hit him.  He had always known that the lad was considered a slave, but he had never really _seen_ it until now.  "Why don't you go join them?" he said softly.

Trunks jumped and twisted to stare at him, his face going pale.  "I can't," he gulped.  "And why would you say that?  You know that humans can't fly!"

"I know humans can't fly, boy," Vegeta grunted.  "I told _you_ to get out there."  Trunks paled further, staring at his grandfather if stricken.  Vegeta frowned as realization slowly dawned on him.  He had just assumed that Trunks could fly, due to his Saiyan heritage.  But had anyone bothered to teach the boy?  "Would you like to learn to fly?"

"Humans are weak, Grandfather Vegeta," Trunks muttered, staring at the deck.  "Weak creatures cannot learn how to fly."

"I didn't ask if a human wanted to learn to fly, boy," Vegeta growled, "I asked if you wanted to learn to fly."

He thought Trunks had gone pale before, but the lad's face turned white as he stared at his grandfather.  A thump on the deck distracted both men as Avia landed nearly.  With a laugh, she ducked under the shading canvas and kneeled on the cushion.  "Jazzicou!" she said with an easy smile. "Can I play the winner?"

"You can have my seat," Trunks muttered, rolling out of the low deck chair.  "I think that the sun is getting to me.  May I lie down below decks?"

"Of course, lad," Grandfather Vegeta said, frowning a touch.  The boy didn't trust him at all, he realized with a heavy heart as he watched the lad walk away.  A glance at Avia dispelled thoughts of Trunk's problems; the woman was staring after him with a mixture of concern and forlorn sadness.  "Avia, what's wrong?"

Avia jumped as if he had bit her; Grandfather Vegeta watched her face darken with a touch of amusement as blood rushed to her face.  "I like Trunks," she murmured, focusing on setting up the game board again.  "I'm concerned about him."

"It's more than that, girl," Vegeta grunted.  "Tell me truly; is he the boy you spoke of several weeks ago?"

"Please," she whispered, her head bowed.  "Please don't ask me that."

Vegeta grunted angrily.  "You children, so melodramatic.  Avia, do you honestly think that you would be the first Saiyan noble to desire a slave?"

Avia's head snapped up; her eyes flashed with anger as she snarled, "I want him for more than my bed!  Is that what you want to hear, old man?"

"Actually, yes, because you wouldn't be the first Saiyan to want that either," he stated calmly.  "There have been nobles who have been closer to their slaves than their bondmates." 

Vegeta had expected to see hope or some relief in her eyes; instead, she just shook her head as a tear slipped down her cheek.  With a hiss, she rubbed it away, but more threatened to fall.  Vegeta waited for her to talk, knowing that if he was quiet long enough, she would feel a compulsion to tell him the whole truth.  With a trembling sigh, she finally said, "He threw up."

"What?"

"It was dark," she said, her voice fighting to stay even.  "I was in a mask with contacts and a voice modulator, everything that I could think of to disguise myself.  I saw him there, and I wanted him.  And he was willing, right up until he found out who I was."  She rubbed her face vigorously with her hands, as if trying to scrape something off her skin.  "Then he was horrified and threw up.  He was physically ill when he realized that he had touched me."

Vegeta frowned; remembered that night well, and now that he stopped to think about it, Trunks had been terribly upset.  He had asked the boy what was wrong, but the brat had been as stubborn as ever and had refused to talk.  _But now he would talk_, Vegeta thought, _whether he wants to or not.  This has gone beyond you, boy, and I don't want to see it go on any longer._

Prince Vegeta sat on the stern balcony of the airship, watching the sands flow away behind them.  It was a dammed boring view, but then that was why he had chosen it.  Hopefully, no one else would think that he would be back here.  He had a lot to think about.

Like his sister.  He loved Avia – to himself, at least, he could admit it – but he wasn't sure that he approved of this fascination with the human slave.  And then there was the human in question, Trunks.  No matter how much Prince Vegeta tried to wrap his head around it, he was couldn't figure out how a human could get so strong.  He glanced at the datapad in his hands again, rereading the information.  A lot of it was scientific gibberish to him, but one point that was very clear: a human could never surpass the Third-class level, if that.

Which meant that Trunks had somehow broken past his genetic limits – no, he had smashed through his genetic limits to become the Legendary.  Vegeta sighed and turned off the datapad.  There were no answers in this machine.  But where should he go from here?

"To the beginning," he murmured as an idea came to him, and he turned the pad back on.  He scrolled through the menus to the palace's personnel files, stopping at the 'b's.  "Briefs, Briefs, ah!  Here it is," he muttered as he opened Bulma Briefs' file.

She had been acquired from her home planet twenty years ago during the summer.  Her preliminary task was house-servant in the main palace for the six months before she was tested for proficiencies and found to have an astounding intellect.  She was immediately placed in the Royal Sciences Division, and was only there for three months before she was elevated to the highest position a slave could reach: personal research assistant to the Head Scientist.

At this point, Bulma's record had been a textbook account of a slave rising through the system; her evaluations and supervisor notes had all said that she was attentive and hard-working, if a little temperamental.  Not long after reaching her final position in the Palace, the Head Scientist noticed that she became emotionally unstable and distracted.  It had a minor negative effect on her work, and he submitted her to an enforced vacation.  When she came back, she was happy and bubbly, more so than before.  The supervisor believed that she had found a romantic interest.  He was eagerly awaiting any children that she might have, as he wanted to see how much of her amazing intellect she might pass on.

Less than four weeks after her vacation, the King informed the Head Scientist that she had been given to a Third-class who had greatly pleased him.  And that was the end of it, other than a note stating that she had died in Bardock's service.  Prince Vegeta frowned, not satisfied with the pieces of the story that were clearly missing.  What had happened on her vacation to improve her mood?  Why had Grandfather Vegeta removed her from the Palace so suddenly?

Vegeta opened up the picture link, and felt his eyes widen in surprise.  Trunk's mom had been hot!  His friend's blue eyes stared out him, but as he searched the rest of the face, there was little else that matched her son's features, even accounting for the differences in genders.  _Trunks must resemble his father more_, Vegeta thought idly.  He thought about letting it go there, but he found that he was curious.

It was only a few more moments of work to pull up Krillian's picture, but Vegeta was not pleased with the result.  The round face that stared sullenly from the screen bore even less resemblance to Trunks' than Bulma's. 

Vegeta set the pad down and rubbed wearily at his eyes.  All of this searching into Trunk's background had only found more questions.  What he needed were answers.  "So Krillian isn't his father," Vegeta muttered, working it through his head.  "Why lie about that?  It had to have been one of the slaves that came over from their homeworld, as she was here for a long time before he was born."  Vegeta picked up the pad again and checked the human's gestation time and converted it into Saiyan time, idly noting that Saiyan and humans carried young about the same amount of time.  Then he checked Trunks' birthdate.

And the first piece of the puzzle fell into place.  "She was pregnant when she left the palace!" Vegeta realized with surprise.  "But no one would have cared if she had breed with one of the humans – that's something they're supposed to do.  So why lie?"

Vegeta checked Krillian's file again to see where he had been at the time.  Not in the palace; he had been assigned to a hydroponics farm well away from the capitol at the time, so he couldn't possibly be Trunks' father.  So who?

It would help if he could get an idea of what Trunks' father had looked like.  Pulling Bulma and Trunks' pictures into a photo program, he programmed the pad to remove all of Bulma's features from Trunks' picture and show the results.  Vegeta tensely waited as the computer worked through the program, his eyes moving to the flowing sands below the air ship.  The pad beeped softly as the program flashed a picture up, and Vegeta glanced down.

His father's face stared back at him, freezing the Prince in shock.  He glanced at the controls of the program to see if he had mis-programmed the machine, but he had done it right.  And then he realized the problem; the program was built for Saiyan specifications, so the computer had added dark eyes and Saiyan hair, but that didn't matter to Vegeta as the truth dawned on him.  "Trunks is the missing bond-child," he whispered.  "The true prince."

He didn't think at that moment, he just did.  His hands convulsed around the datapad, crushing it.  Digging around in the debris, he pulled out the memory crystal and crushed it as best he could, grinding what he couldn't break into dust under his boot.  Only one thought existed – his father could never find out that he had a true son.  No one must ever find out.  And finally, Vegeta understood why his friend had always been so jumpy, so cautious and apprehensive.  Half-breeds were not allowed to exist; Trunks feared for his life. 

As he made sure that he destroyed all the evidence from his mission, he didn't stop to ask himself if he was protecting himself or his new-found brother.


	17. Chapter 15 A Reconcilation

ACK!  Time got away from me, I didn't realize how long it's been.  I hope that I have readers left.  New chapter – enjoy!

PK

Grandfather Vegeta stopped in front of the boy's door, hesitating slightly.  He was tired of seeing Trunks hurt himself and others, but how do you confront someone with a secret of this magnitude?

He knocked and Trunks, good lad that he was, opened the door immediately.  Grandfather Vegeta didn't wait for an invitation, and instead pushed past the boy.  "Shut the door, Trunks," he rumbled as he dropped into the only chair in the room.  "We're going to talk."

Trunks stiffened and slid down to perch on the edge of the bed, looking like it was the last place he wanted to be.  "Have I done something wrong?" he asked apprehensively.

Lord Vegeta started to say no, but reconsidered as he thought about the topic at hand.  "Somewhat," he grumbled softly, crossing his arms across his chest – a purely defensive maneuver, but once he had begun it, it looked weak to stop.  "I have something to tell you, and it won't be easy and I'm not comfortable talking about this."  He realized his tail tip was twitching, and he forced it to stop.

Trunks hunched his shoulders, embarrassment and confusion clear on his face. Vegeta squashed his own sense of embarrassment and bullied forward.  "I first have a grave apology to make to you, boy," he said, forcing himself to continue looking directly at Trunks.  The last thing that he wanted to do was look his grandson in the eyes while he apologized, but he knew better than to listen to his pride, particularly at his age.  "I was the one who forced your mother out of the palace by giving her to Bardock, and I was the one who stole your father from your life.  Regardless of the fact that it wasn't intentional, the outcome has still been terrible for you, your mother and my son." 

Trunks jerked with reaction, staring wide-eyed at the old man. 

"What?" Lord Vegeta grumped.  "Don't act so surprised, boy, I knew who you were since you nursed me back to health.  You have your father's face and arrogant demeanor.  I checked your birthdate, and that fact combined with the fact that I knew your father and mother were involved – hell, I was the one who made sure that no one else knew they were involved.  I'm sorry that I cause you all so much pain."

"That's ok…" Trunks answered automatically, his voice faint with shock.

"And the other thing that I wanted to talk to you about," Grandfather Vegeta said quickly, trying to keep the boy off-balance.  It was selfish, but as long as the kid was flabbergasted, he couldn't ask Vegeta any questions and prolong this whole thing.  "Avia."

Trunks jumped like Lord Vegeta has goosed him.  "I--"

Vegeta waved a dismissive hand.  "I can see how much you care for one another – it's clear to anyone looking."  Trunks' face was redder than the sky in a sand storm, and Vegeta verbally picked up the pace to get through this discussion.  Saiyans did not _discuss_ – let off-worlders talk, a Saiyan should _do_.  "I wanted to tell you, if you care about her, don't push her away.  Make her yours, if that's what you want."

"What?!" Trunks yelped, his eyes popping out of his head.  "But, but--"

"But what?" Vegeta countered.  He leaned forward and held his hands out in front of him to emphasize the importance of what he was saying.  "Look, I forced your mother and father apart, and it caused everyone too much grief.  If you want her, win her."

Trunks looked at him skeptically.  "You mean that?" he asked, and Lord Vegeta noted the hope in the lad's voice. 

"I mean it," Vegeta said firmly.  "You have the same value as any other noble seeking her attention."

Trunks moved around the edge of the ship, hesitantly working his way to the prow.  His target was silhouetted in starlight, turning her dark skin to golden-bronze and her white clothing to silver.  He wondered what his reception would be, and he wondered if he were insane for deciding to do this. 

_It doesn't matter_, Trunks told himself firmly.  If Grandfather Vegeta approved then Trunks certainly couldn't argue.  Apparently, Saiyans had different views of close-kin relationships.  And, when it came right down to it, he literally couldn't stop himself.  _I love her._

He moved to the rail next her, tipping his head back to look at the stars.  Trunks hoped that she would say something to start the conversation, but she was just silent, looking at the stars as well.  The only movement from her was the wind stirring her hair and tail fur.  Finally, he had to break the ice before his courage broke under the pressure.

"Nice night," he murmured.  She was still silent, and he blindly pushed on, ignoring the panic rising in him.  "Is it just me, or are the stars getting brighter the further south we go?"

She hunkered down without warning, and Trunks for a moment thought that she was leaning over the rail; but the first choked sob that reached his ears dispelled that thought.  No, his Avia was crying, her face buried in her arms where they rested on the rail. 

"Avia?!" Trunks gasped as he knelt down next to her, circling one arm protectively around her shaking frame.  "What's wrong?  Tell me what's wrong!"

"I can't," she sobbed, and for a horrible moment Trunks thought that she wouldn't tell him.  When she continued, it was a relief to him.  "I can't get away from you."

Trunks jerked back from her, pain flooding his heart.  "Avia, I – I'm sorry," he whispered, clenching his fists to keep from touching her anyway. 

"I just thought that I was obsessed," Avia whispered, "and what you do for obsession is to break completely from it.  But now—now I just feel worse."  She choked again, and coughed violently; Trunks started to rub her back without thinking about it.

"What do you mean, Avia?  I don't understand," Trunks murmured, keeping his voice soft.  "Tell me what's wrong, and I'll fix it."

"That's the problem, Trunks!" she hissed as she pushed away from him.  "You're the problem!  I can't think, I can't sleep – and you're the cause!"

"Not anymore," he said, snatching her hand out of the air and holding it gently.   "That's what I came to tell you.  I'm yours, if you'll have me."  Her wide eyes met his, and he smiled at her.  "I've been stupid," he continued.  "I wasn't thinking right.  If it's not too late… for us to--"

Her surge knocked him over backwards to the deck, and her hands and lips were touching him everywhere at once as they coiled tightly together.  Trunks lost track of time and place as his entire world narrowed down to the woman in his arms.  Finally, she pushed away and said, "My cabin?"

"Your cabin," Trunks said with a laugh as he caught her up in his arms and began the walk to below-decks.

Their leaving did not go unnoticed.

Nappa trembled with silent rage, watching the woman he wanted cling to a slave!  Last night when she had come to him with the haunted look in her eyes, he had known that would be his chance to prove that they were meant to be bond-mates. 

Saiyans were considered unnaturally promiscuous by other space-faring empires; what those races didn't understand was that was how the Saiyans found their bond-mates.  The bond would lie dormant in the Saiyans until they had intercourse with one another.  Then, the bond would awaken and each would slowly become aware of it.

And all Nappa could think was that she wasn't being fair.  They had agreed to give it a couple of days to see if a bond would develop, and she wasn't waiting like she had said.  He could feel the bond already – hell, he had known for years that she was the one he would bond with.  And he had spent all that time on her, working so hard to make her better than the other Montessi, to prove that she was Saiyan through and through.

And she was throwing herself at some slave – and, Nappa noted grimly, with a hell of a lot more enthusiasm than she had shown him the night before.  There had to be some way he could salvage this – normally, he would fight for her, but to fight against some puny slave would be dishonorable and beneath him.

"King Vegeta will know how to take care of this problem," Nappa growled.  He was sure that the King would not want to see the royal line of Vegeta-sai tainted with impure blood.  He started to march to the King's bedroom door, then stopped.  The King had been most attentive to the Queen lately, and it was likely that they were together.  This would have to wait until morning.

Trunks came awake suddenly when something else in his bed moved.  A second of alarm melted away to pure pleasure as he realized that it was Avia.  With a content sigh, he snuggled back down next to her, surprisingly content.  He had thought that he would regret giving into this relationship, but now that he was here, there was no room for anything but joy.

She stirred a bit more and Trunks had the delight of watching her eyes slowly slide open.  She looked sleepily at him for a moment, then grinned and said, "Good morning."

Trunks returned her grin and replied, "Yes, it is.  Do you feel better than you did last night?"

"Much," she purred.  "Must be your magic touch."  She stretched luxuriously and sighed, "This is so nice that I'm afraid to ask what time it is."

"Time?" Trunks yelped and bounced out of the bed.  "Crap!  I need to get to Grandfather and help him with the morning routine!"

"Oh, did I have to mention time?" Avia moaned to herself in the suddenly cold bed.  She watched Trunks throw his clothing on for a moment before she reached out and snagged a sleeve.  "Come back tonight?"

Trunks hesitated only a second before saying, "If I'm not already in so much trouble that I won't be allowed any freedom, then yes, I will definitely come back tonight."  He bent down and kissed her, pulling away with reluctance.  Avia smiled, and Trunks gave her another quick kiss.  "Tonight," he murmured, as much to himself as her, and he ducked out of the room before he delayed further.


	18. Chapter 16 A Realization

King Vegeta wanted to laugh hysterically, but he bit back his laughter. For one, Nappa would not appreciate – or understand – the humor in the situation. And the last thing Vegeta wanted was for his closest advisor to wonder if he was mad. Although rare, kings had been deposed for similar in the past.

"Your Highness, did you hear me?" Nappa's tone was barely differential. Vegeta shot him a dark look of warning. Closest advisor or not, there were ways to speak to your King.

"I am listening to everything you say, Nappa," Vegeta growled. The man visibly calmed, choking his rage back. "You know as well as I do that if I started punishing every Saiyan who slept with a slave, I wouldn't have time to sleep with my own mate."

"But this is your own daughter, man!" Nappa snapped angrily.

King Vegeta rounded on his Captain of the Guard, slamming him to the floor with one strike. "Do not raise your voice to me, Nappa," he rumbled, "or I will raise your voice one octave – permanently. And don't presume to tell me what to do regarding my own daughter."

"Yes, Your Highness," Nappa had curled into a properly submissive posture, but Vegeta took no pleasure in the man's submission. It wasn't like Nappa was in his league anyway; his submission meant nothing. Looking at his vassal's hurt, angry face, King Vegeta did something he rarely did. He explained himself.

"Nappa, this isn't a case of rejecting your claims or your suite for my daughter," Vegeta sighed heavily as he grabbed a mug of warmed ale. "I cannot dictate her choices for her. Why I cannot do this is not for you to know, but trust that if I had my way in this, Princess Avia's choice in suitors would be very different."

"Yes, My Lord," Nappa said, still looking sullenly at the floor. Vegeta sighed, knowing that no matter what he said now, Nappa would sulk about it. So he didn't tell Nappa what he knew the Saiyan wanted to hear – that the matter would be resolved soon enough, and life would soon return to what it had been before the blue-eyed slave had been turned over to him.

"You may leave me," Vegeta grunted, and Nappa did as he was told. Vegeta drained his ale and crossed to stare out the window, glad for once that Cyrane was not here. He needed to be alone right now.

A bitter laugh escaped him, and he shook his head at the irony. "History repeats itself," he muttered. "Who would have expected this?" He moved to the bed and dropped heavily onto it, staring at the ceiling, which was painted sky blue. _Did I really have it painted that color?_, he wondered as he realized that it was the same blue as her eyes. If so, it hadn't been a conscious choice.

He rolled onto his side so that he wouldn't have to look at his ceiling and acknowledged what was bothering him most. He couldn't get away from her, from her memory. He had thought when she had died that he would be free, but he just felt empty, like someone had ripped a piece of him away.

His eyes drifted shut as he remembered the first day he had seen her. She had been working for the Head Scientist at the Palace. He had wandered through to see if his personal regen tank had been recalibrated. It hadn't been done, and he had started to complain when she told him to stuff it, she was working as fast as she could. He had been so shocked that anyone had said something like that to him, he had stood gaping at her as she completed the tank. When she had turned back to him with a triumphant grin on her face, he had seen her eyes.

"It has to be those damn blue eyes," he muttered softly. "The boy has them too. They're dangerous to the opposite sex." The thought of commissioning his Head Scientist to make a weapon based off of those eyes gave him a rare chuckle.

The door that adjoined his room and Cyrane's swung open, and Vegeta-sai's queen walked into the room. She cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised to see him sprawled across the bed like a teenager. She looked even more surprised when he didn't scowl at her for showing that surprise. "Are you well, my Lord Mate?" she asked as she turned to the bar.

"Is there still an emptiness in you?" he asked, surprising them both. She actually dropped the glass that she had picked up; her tail-fur flared as she spun to face him with a mixture of shock and fear in her face.

"What?" she gasped, her cold composure gone. "What did you ask me?"

"When Gyro died, there was an emptiness inside you. I know it was there," Vegeta cut her denial off before it left her mouth. "Has it ever gone away?" He ignored the fact that he had said her former mate's name – he himself had declared that the man had never existed, by royal edict. His name was forbidden to be spoken, but it was Vegeta's law and he could break it.

"No, my Lord Mate," she hissed, her golden eyes flashing with rage. Just like the first time he had seen her…

_"Your Highness, I am a mated woman," the Montessi woman said to him, her bizarre golden eyes nearly glowing with indignation. _

_"I don't care," King Vegeta said flatly. "I want the strongest woman for my mate, and I have been all over this planet looking for her. You are the strongest I've found, and you will be my mate."_

_"I will not survive the death of my mate," she hissed, guessing his intentions well. "I can promise you that."_

_"Well," Vegeta said, taking a stab in the dark as he glanced over her shoulder at the child standing behind her, "then I shall just take your daughter, and when she is old enough, I will mate her." He leaned forward to emphasize his point. "And don't think that I won't do whatever it takes to assure that a bond takes place and holds."_

_"You cannot force a bond," the woman insisted, but her eyes were fearful._

_"Oh, but who knows what the Legendary can do?" Vegeta replied casually, noting her silent struggle not to react to that statement. Instead, she took solace in anger._

_"The loss of my husband or my daughter's future?" the woman growled. "What kind of man are you?"_

_"The one who knows what he wants, and won't accept anything other than what he wants," Vegeta had answered._

The fight with her mate had been brief. Gyro had been brave, Vegeta would give him that. He had found Vegeta later that day, after talking with his wife. There had been no exchange of words, just three sharp blows and then blood everywhere.

Cyrane had survived – the medic had done well, and the woman had been strong enough to live for her daughter's sake. But there had been the promise.

_"She's dying," the medic said ominously, and the child gripping Cyrane's hand gave a soft gasp. Vegeta glanced at her; she was only three years old or so, but there was resolution mixed with the fear in her young face. "Your Highness, I told you that this may not work."_

_"Promise me," Cyrane wheezed. _

_The medic bent down next to her. "Promise you what?"_

_"Not you," Cyrane hissed. "Him." One finger flicked in King Vegeta's general location. "You will promise me that she is free to make her own choices." Her other hand gripped the child's tighter._

_"Or what?" he growled in response. "You'll die anyway and make her serve in your place?"_

_"You have taken my mate from me," Cyrane growled, her voice stronger. "You will make this one concession."_

_Vegeta considered it for a moment before nodding his agreement. He didn't care who the woman's brat mated._

_"Say it," Cyrane hissed._

_"I promise. She'll make her own choices," King Vegeta swore solemnly. He looked at the child again, and Cyrane's golden eyes flashed in her small imperious face. He matched that haughty gaze with his own royal expression, but the child didn't look away. Instead, it took Cyrane tugging the child's hand to break the stare-down. Vegeta watched quietly as she whispered to the child, now his daughter. _

_Cyrane had lived, the attending medic had suggested later, because of his promise – it had given her the strength to continue._

King Vegeta watched that fateful day play out in his mate's eyes again. He had often wondered if he just should have taken the child and waited for her to grow up. But he had been so impatient, so eager to move past Bulma that he had ran roughshod over every obstacle in his way. He hadn't considered the cost to Cyrane until tonight, when he finally realized his own loss.

"Such things are never healed," Cyrane said her voice tired as if her anger had worn her out.

Vegeta sat up on the bed, facing her. "I am sorry that I did that to you," he admitted. She gave him a disbelieving glance. He shrugged. "I am regretful about what happened."

"Then answer me one question," she said, gathering her anger again. "Why did you not just acknowledge the woman you bonded with?"

"I couldn't acknowledge her," Vegeta answered, his voice tight with emotion.

"You are the King," Cyrane jeered, anger making her cruel. "You can do anything! You could acknowledge this woman!"

"Cyrane, she wasn't Saiyan," Vegeta said wearily, admitting to Cyrane the one thing he had never before. His supposed mate's name sounded strange from his mouth; he still wasn't used to addressing her personally, after years of barely acknowledging her.

Cyrane stared at him blankly. "But that isn't possible," she finally said, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor facing his bed. Her tail curled around her arms, covering her hands as if they were cold.

"It happened," Vegeta replied softly, shifting slightly so that he could see her better. He shrugged lightly. "It made me realize what I took from you."

Cyrane nodded slightly, understanding in her eyes. Vegeta was pleased – she had never looked at him before with anything other than contempt or fear. When Bulma had been alive, that had been fine. Now…

Now, he wanted more. He wanted to give Vegeta-sai a true heir. It would take time to convince Cyrane to bond to him, but he was confident it would happen.

"Would you like to play some Chezzen?" Vegeta asked, rolling upright and moving over to his cabinet. The game was the one frivolous thing there, and was brand new – he had had it purchased for this trip, to help him connect with Cyrane; he knew she liked the game. She gave him a startled nod, and he began to set up the board, beginning two games – one board game, and one game for his mate's bond.


	19. Chapter 17 An Arrival

First chapter of two I'm putting up today. The extra is a gift for your patience.

The black mountains rose in jagged peaks over the sands, and the desert Saiyans stared uneasily at the towering mass before them. The enclosing mountains were alien to them; legends and dangers had long walked the Cassesa peaks, and while the desert-dwellers may not like to admit it, they feared those dark ranges.

Avia and Cyrane leaned forward over the railing, each straining to see Torganga first. It was not deep in the mountains, having long served as the point of trade between the desert and mountain Saiyans. The women's excited voices carried back to the men, where Grandfather Vegeta watched them with something of a smile. Turning to his son, he remarked, "This certainly has made them happy."

King Vegeta shrugged. "There have been rumors of trouble down in some of the wilder passes," he replied, "and there was no reason not to bring them to Torganga on the way."

"So you'll drop them off and immediately head deeper into the mountains?" Grandfather asked.

"I'll see that everyone is settled first, then I'll lead a hunting party," Vegeta said wryly, smirking at his father. "So you'll have to wait a couple of days to be rid of me."

"Who is in the hunting party, Father?" Prince Vegeta asked from Vegeta's right side.

"Whomever wants to go," King Vegeta said, giving his son a crooked grin. "Does this mean that you're volunteering?"

"Yes, Father!" Prince Vegeta chirped. Realizing that his remark had been too eager, he quickly added, "That is, if you think that it will be interesting at all."

"Oh, I think that it will," King Vegeta answered, casually draping his arm over his son's shoulder. Prince Vegeta flushed with happiness then tried to school his face to nonchalance. "At the very least, we'll have fun looking for something to kill."

Grandfather Vegeta added quietly, "I'll go, too."

"You?" King Vegeta barked. "What makes you think you can keep up?"

"I'm old, not dead, boy," Grandfather Vegeta snapped, and King Vegeta took another look at this father. The old fart had gotten some of his old fire back, and contrary to what Vegeta had always thought about the matter, he found himself privately comforted the thought of fighting with his father at his side again. "Of course," Grandfather continued, "if you're concerned about my health, then bring Trunks along."

"What?" Prince Vegeta gasped, twisting to look at his grandfather. "He's just a slave! I don't think that would be very safe." Behind him, he saw Trunks twitch.

"He's a decent medic, should you need one for my fragile aging body," Grandfather Vegeta shrugged. "I think that he can handle himself." He turned to Trunks. "You're smart enough to stay out of trouble, right boy?"

"Prince Vegeta's right," King Vegeta said suddenly, shaking his head. "It is too dangerous for a slave to go along. If you don't feel safe without him, Father, then stay behind."

Grandfather Vegeta grunted irritably, but he knew that tone of voice. There was no arguing with his son now. "It was just a thought," he grumbled, muttering more to his beard than to his son.

"Bardock will not thank me to return his slave injured or dead," Vegeta sighed, then added icily, "If you wanted the boy around, you shouldn't have given his mother to Bardock." The mood around the three Saiyans immediately went from content to tense.

Grandfather was momentarily surprised by the attack, but he recovered and turned on his son. "If you had told me the truth about her," Grandfather Vegeta snarled, "instead of just taking my crown, then maybe I would have kept her." Prince Vegeta watched them closely, concern clear on his face. Some of the closer nobles eyed the growing dispute, unable to hear but curious anyway. Trunks was an uncomfortable, silent shadow behind the men.

"And perhaps," King Vegeta seethed, his tail starting to lash, "you could have asked me about her instead of reacting to what was happening."

Grandfather Vegeta pushed his son's shoulder so that they were facing. "Brat," he growled angrily, "if you had told me she was--"

"Torganga!" Cyrane's voice sang out as she pointed ahead of the ship as the distant city arose from the towering mountains. The arguing men fell silent and looked ahead – Torganga was indeed looming ahead of them. Cyrane was laughing, her arms wide as she embraced the image of her city, but Avia was looking back at them, a worried frown on her face.

"Avia, are you all right?" Grandfather Vegeta asked softly, and her golden eyes came to rest on him.

"I feel a touch sick, Grandfather," she replied softly, then looked past him to Trunks. "Trunks, you can't see very well back there. Come stand next to me; I want you to see this."

Trunks glanced at Grandfather Vegeta, who gave him a quick nod and a quiet smile, a touch concerned; if Avia claimed sickness, then it was Trunks who looked it. As Trunks moved past them, King Vegeta added idly, "It's not like it matters anyway; the boy is going back to Bardock's when this trip is over."

Trunks actually stumbled and glanced at the king, his face stricken. King Vegeta ignored both, while Prince Vegeta frowned at his feet, his expression conflicted. Grandfather Vegeta opened his mouth, then closed it. What was there to say? It was his own hand that had put the boy there in the first place – how could he remove him when he was not even King any longer? At the rail, Avia grimaced and put a hand on her stomach; as her mother put a comforting hand on her shoulder, Grandfather Vegeta frowned, the moment triggering a suspicion.

Trunks, seeing that the King was ignoring him, went to stand at the rail with Avia. "What's wrong?" she whispered to him, wishing she could openly comfort him.

"Later," he murmured as he lifted his eyes to the city. "Is that Torganga?" Like most things the Saiyans built, Torganga was a massive, pretentious structure that soared above the black rocks from which it was carved. Trunks could see many of the desert-dwellers where gaping at it, awed that their supposedly inferior mountain cousins had built something so familiar and yet so alien – the architects had clearly been inspired by the mountains around them and had topped the building with jagged angles and deep slopes. In contrast, most of the desert-dwellers were used to seeing curving roofs and graceful sweeps up to the top of buildings.

"Yes," Avia breathed, her voice content. "My home, my birth land."

"Birth land?" Trunks queried as her words sunk in. "You were born here?"

"I'm Montessi," Avia answered, her tone both simple and proud. "Where else would I have been born?"

"I thought you were born in the palace in the desert," Trunks said. He was silent for a moment, before saying, "It is beautiful."

"Well, you actually haven't seen anything yet," Avia announced gleefully as she took his hand. "And I'm going to show it all to you."

Trunks knew that he should pull away, but her hand felt so right in his, he couldn't object. _Besides_, he thought bitterly, _you won't have her forever. Get as much as you can now._

The first fight began before they left the airship.

"How could you embarrass us like that? Hanging all over that slave!" Prince Vegeta hissed at his sister, his golden eyes nearly glowing in the dim light.

"Embarrass? Embarrass!" she snarled. "Why are you embarrassed of Trunks? He's our friend."

"No, Avia, he's not," Vegeta growled. "He's a slave. For the love of All, sister, he's not even a Saiyan!"

"I do not care what he is," Avia snapped. "He is mine!" The prince's mouth dropped open, and he actually was at a loss for words.

In the silence that followed that statement, King Vegeta's voice carried clearly from the door. "Avia, may I have a word with you?" Prince and princess alike spun, their faces flushing as they realized that not only had they been arguing in a room with an open door, but that they had been arguing with raised voices. If King Vegeta was amused by catching them in this situation, it didn't show in his face or voice.

"Of course, Your Highness," Avia recovered with a formal bow. "I always have time for you."

"How gracious of you," the King replied, his comment not quite a rebuke. Avia swallowed back a response and followed him down the hall, her head arrogantly held high.

To her surprise, the King showed her to his bedroom, holding the door for her. Uncertainly, she shot him an evaluative look; he merely gestured for her to go into the room. She moved into the room and settled down on one of the chairs, her back to the wall.

"Avia," King Vegeta said softly, "I wanted to speak to you about something of great importance." He smiled at her, and Avia instantly tensed, knowing that look from long years under this man's thumb. It meant that she had pissed him off, and he was going to make her pay. His words, however, were a surprise to her. "I understand that you've taken up with Bardock's blue-eyed slave."

She blinked at him, and then found her voice. "I have," she said defiantly, jutting her chin forward. "And it is not a big deal; I can think of a dozen other Saiyan nobles in the past few years who have dallied with slave, and those were just the obvious ones. Why should this be important?"

"Because, I have seen this game played before," the King sighed, his expression troubled, "and your mother is concerned."

"Game?" Avia asked, frowning. "What game?"

Vegeta moved to the edge of the bed and sat down, clearly uncomfortable. "When this boy's mother worked in the palace, she seduced a Saiyan noble. He became obsessed, and in the end, it forced my father to quietly give her away so to save this Saiyan's honor," Vegeta met her eyes, a surprising amount of understanding in his own. "Your mother sees the same pattern, and she worries about you."

"I have my feelings under control," Avia said coldly. "I am not some weak desert-dweller, who falls apart when faced with some pretty eyes."

"Very good, then," Vegeta said brusquely, standing up and gracing her with another disturbing smile. "I can tell your mother that there will be no problems. She was particularly worried since I'm sending Trunks back to Bardock when we return to the capital."

Avia's face paled and her hands twitched but she held control of her emotions. Her voice though was another matter, and both Saiyans heard it shiver as she replied, "Fine. Sounds good."

King Vegeta nodded and said, "I'm glad we had this talk, and that we understand each other."

"Yes," Avia said, her voice a bare whisper. "We understand each other. May I go now?"

"Of course," King Vegeta said. "I think you and your brother had a conversation to finish?"

Avia shot him a glance at that line, the pain in her golden eyes giving way before her anger. Vegeta was again reminded of Cyrane on that fateful day so long ago, and he thought again that he should have just waited until the daughter was of age rather than taking the mother. Avia was young, but she would grow into as much strength as her mother, in time. But that was not what had happened, and he now smiled at the woman who was by law his daughter and said, "But don't take too long talking to your brother; we'll be disembarking in less than five minutes."

"Of course," she said, anger lending her voice steel. She slipped past the King and made her way toward Grandfather Vegeta's cabin, her feet leading the way as if they were creatures of their own. At the door, she knocked, and Grandfather Vegeta opened.

"Avia?" he inquired, his expression becoming concerned when he saw her. "Is something wrong?"

"Trunks?" she said, and her voice sounded terrible – too hollow, as if something were emptying her out. "Is he here?"

Grandfather Vegeta stepped back to let her see Trunks; he was straightening up from the trunk, packing away the few things that Grandfather had brought. Avia dashed forward and threw her arms around Trunks, who, despite throwing his grandfather an apologetic, embarrassed glance, held her back just as tightly. "He's sending you back to Bardock," Avia whispered to him after a moment.

Trunks nodded and buried his face in her hair. "I know, he told me earlier today."

Grandfather Vegeta watched the couple, fighting with conflicting emotions. While he didn't want to see them hurt, would he be doing them a disfavor by encouraging them, and making it all the harder to say good-bye? While Avia would certainly be able to visit Trunks at Bardock's, she couldn't fraternize with a slave owned by another – though she was technically already doing that. Finally, he cleared his throat and grumped, "You kids! That kind of smoochy crap has no place in my room! Go somewhere else, hopefully where you won't bother anyone, like off the ship."

Avia pulled away from Trunks, not angry because it was clear that his rant was all bluster. "We can't leave the ship until King Vegeta does, and then I'll be pulled into all sorts of opening ceremonies," she sighed, keeping one arm looped around the slave. "So I guess it will have to be tonight."

"You can leave the ship, and should now if you want to escape all the pomp and crap," Grandfather grumped. "Just go from one of the balconies, and be careful not to be seen."

"But the tradition – the King--" Avia began, only to be waved silent by the older Saiyan.

"Screw tradition, Avia," he said, his gruff voice full of sincerity and regret. "The gods know that I wish I had done so for your mother, Trunks. Call this my attempt to make things right."

"Alright," Trunks said, nodding at his grandfather, ignoring Avia's questioning glance. "Thank you."

Vegeta waved away the thanks. "Just get out of here before you get all sappy again."


	20. Chapter 18 An Heir

And the second chapter today is where the plot threads start to come together – all I'm saying is light at the end of the tunnel!

Laughing, Trunks dropped gracefully to the ground, looking back to see how far away Avia was. She was only seconds behind him, dropping next to him with an amused grimace. "I know you're stronger than me; why'd you have to be faster too?" she laughed.

Trunks grinned roguishly and smirked, "Well, I'm sure there's something you do better than me. You'll just have to find it."

"And when I do," she warned playfully, slipping into his arms. He bent his head to kiss her, and they spent several moments just enjoying the taste and feel of each other.

Finally, Trunks looked around at the small glade they stood in, taking in the small stream trickling merrily through the center and the graceful trees that shadowed the area. "This is pretty," he murmured. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"Part of it," she answered softly. She prepared herself to pull away from him, trying to hold a measure of strength for what was coming next. "The rest is over here."

Trunks fell into step next to her, an arm around her shoulders. This is what they had needed; the long peaceful walk through a tiny pocket of green in the black mountains. Somehow, the soaring black peaks that menacingly enclosed the valley only added to the delicate, green beauty here. Patches of weeds stuck up, and the place was obviously untended, but that couldn't destroy the charm of the place, especially when Trunks compared it to the desert he had lived with for all his life.

Avia steered him across the low stone and wood bridge to a set of stairs that climbed the mountain. Still silent, content to just walk together, the couple climbed the black-stone stairs holding hands. The steps ended on a plateau set into the side of the mountain, and Trunks blinked at the small house nestled between the mountain and the trees that rimmed the plateau. It was a smallish building, only a cottage – the remnants of some kind of wooden frame rotted in the yard, and a square of yard grew strangely, wild with weeds. After looking closely, Trunks realized that it was an old garden.

Avia stopped walking and stared at the building; Trunks, still holding her hand, halted and looked at her. Emotions ran across her face – sorrow, joy, pride and others in a swirling gambit that was too conflicted to be clear. Sensing that he shouldn't say anything, Trunks fell silent, merely giving her hand a squeeze.

After a moment, Avia said, "This was our house."

Trunks looked it over again, seeing it with a new eye. "Really?" he smiled. "You guys lived here?" He frowned, and added, "It looks like no one's been here for a while."

"Well," Avia replied, dropping his hand as she walked over to the wooden frame, "we left about fifteen years ago." She bent and pried a length of wood out of the earth, running her fingers over the moisture-darkened wood. With a sudden, bitter laugh, she added, "Who would mess with royal property, even to care for it?" She turned to stare at the overgrown garden, her eyes sad.

She seemed to want to be alone; so Trunks edged around the side of the house, curious to see what the other side looked like. Later, he would kick himself for not being more cautious, for as he stepped around the corner, there was a flash of light, and then he was lying on his back, gasping for air.

"What's this? An off-worlder?" a gruff voice snapped, and a wild-haired Montessi Saiyan in furs bent over Trunks, his near-white eyes eerie in his dark face. "What are you doing here, child?"

It was the 'child' that got him. With a snarl, he powered up, literally flying upright to hover before the surprised man. "Why do you Saiyans have to insult everyone?" he snarled as he punched the guy. This time, it was his turn to surprise – the Saiyan took the fist cleanly in the jaw and was tossed backwards into the tree line. But Trunks had no time to worry about him; another Saiyan had been around the corner, and now this woman was advancing on him, her pale green eyes flashing with anger. Trunks had just enough time to note that she bore a resemblance to Avia; then she was on him, punching and kicking.

"You're pretty good," Trunks noted after a couple of seconds of blocking and assessing her skill, "but not good enough." He switched effortlessly to an offensive stance smoothly as the long hours of practice paid off and hit her three times in rapid succession – chin, stomach, and knee. She dropped with an 'oomph' of pain, glaring up at him breathlessly.

"Trunks, who are you talking to?" Avia said as she came around the house. Stopping at the sight of Trunks standing over the woman, she gasped, "Cousin Spara?"

"Avia!" the woman choked out. "Watch out!" She pointed feebly at Trunks.

"Me?!" Trunks yelped indignantly. "Your friend was the one who started this!"

"And I'll finish it!" a shout came from the trees as the Saiyan dashed out. He stopped his charge at the sight of Avia and gave a loud whoop. "Avia conva Gyro!" he cried. "You've come home!" He jumped toward her, his arms open.

Trunks was suddenly in front of him, moving faster than even Avia had ever seen him move. Before the man could even react to his presence, Trunks' leg had swept him to the ground, and the slave was kneeling on his back, pinning him down.

"Trunks," Avia said calmly, "could you get off Uncle Osper? I know he attacked you first, but that's just his way of saying welcome."

Trunks flushed and scrambled off the man, extending a hand to help him up. Osper batted it away irritably and stood up himself, glancing quickly at Spara to make sure she was alright. She had already picked herself up, and was staring at Trunks with a speculative gleam in her eye.

"How have you been, Uncle?" Avia said as she hugged him happily, trying to dispel the discomfort radiating from all of them. Trunks took the opportunity to study the man – he was thick and broad with a weather-leathered face. Everything about him was big – his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his body, but he had a kind expression on his face when he looked at Avia.

"Fine, child, now that you're here," he grunted and stepped back so that Avia could hug Spara as well. "You look even better than the vids make you out to be." He eyed Trunks, who tried to give him a reassuring smile. When Avia moved back to Trunks' side, Osper raised his eyebrows but only said, "Where did you find the fighting flower here?"

"This is Trunks Briefs," Avia said as she slipped her hand around Trunks' arm. "He's my… a palace slave who came with us."

"A slave and he fights like that?" Osper grunted. "What, are they enslaving all aliens now?"

"I just happened to have a good teacher," Trunks answered hastily. "He taught me to maximize my potential."

Spara grunted, a noise surprisingly similar to her father's. "He should sell that maximization – if he can get a slave to that level, he could make me a Legendary."

"What are you boy, second-class?" Osper speculated.

"Uh, I don't know," Trunks stammered, flushing red.

"He's not been officially tested," Avia murmured, "but he's definitely a first-class, and probably elite as well."

Osper whistled through his teeth, exchanging an unreadable glance with his daughter. "Really," he rumbled, "that strong?"

"What does that mean?" Trunks asked, glancing from one dark face to another.

"It means, little flower, that were you a Saiyan, you'd be a noble," Spara answered. "How did you come to be a slave, with that power?"

"I was born to it," Trunks answered tightly. "My mother was a captured slave."

Osper shook his head angrily. "And because one person in your family was 'slave-level,'" he snarled, filling his words with scorn, "you weren't even tested. How blind the King's law is!"

"Don't forget, Father, that you do not have to be a slave to have your rights trampled under the heavy boots of those pale nobles," Spara hissed, clenching her fists.

"Right! Oh, Avia, that reminds me, I have somewhat to show you." Osper said, straightening up and taking Avia's arm. He led Avia to the front of the house, noting her trembling.

On this side of the plateau, the trees thinned and ended their protective perimeter, allowing a steep road to access the plateau. Here was the front of the house – unlike the cozy backside of the house it was not warm or welcoming, but sparse and imposing. The trees didn't hold back the wind, and it whistled fiercely over the flat, open area. Once, a gravel path had marched straight to the front door; now was broken up by the granite stone blocking the path. It had the somber feel of a marker; flowers, fresh and old, had been draped on and around the stone, looking as though they were an offering to something.

"Is this…? Did you bury him here?" Avia said, reaching out to touch one of the flowers on the stone. The crimson bloom closed at her touch, and she drew back her hand.

"Yes, this is the memorial to Gyro," Osper said softly. "He might have been decreed away, but the Montessi do not forget the injustice done to him or his family. Here, niece, your father's name has become a battle-cry, a scream of injustice against the tyrants that rule us from the desert."

"Your father!" Trunks choked out. "But I thought--" He stopped his sentence and just shook his head in confusion.

"You thought that pompous windbag who claims to be King of all Saiyans is my father?" Avia asked, laughing hollowly. "He just killed my father so that he could steal my mother to be his mate."

"And so that he could force a genetically impure heir on the empire," Spara added bitterly.

"No," Avia said, fear and anger in her voice, "there is nothing wrong with Vegeta."

"He's not the true bond-heir, and you know it, niece," Osper sighed. "The true bond-heir is missing."

"There is no bond-heir," Avia insisted, but her voice sound desperate even to her.

"If the King had a bond-mate, and we're sure he did, then there is certainly a bond-heir," Osper rejoined gently. "You sound as if you love your brother, but he doesn't deserve to lead the empire, for all that you might want him to."

And Akuma Ryuu – please don't ask me to email you anymore – I've tried twice and haven't heard back from you. 8 If you want to talk to me about fanfiction contests, please email me at Thanks! PK


	21. Chapter 19 An Explanation

Long time, no update. I suck. But things should proceed much faster now.

"Um, can somebody explain what is going on?" Trunks butted in, exasperated. "Bond-mates? Bond-heirs? What do those words mean?"

The three Saiyans blinked at him, clearly having forgotten he was there. Osper spoke up, "Well, it's complicated. And something of relevance to a Saiyan, not an outsider."

"Uncle, he can be trusted," Avia retorted firmly.

Spara put a hand on her father's arm and tugged his ear down to her mouth. "Father, he might be able to gain access to the computer system better than Avia can," Spara whispered. "But he would need to know what to look for." Avia narrowed her eyes but remained silent.

"Fine," Osper grumped after a moment of hard consideration. "I'll tell him. But know this, boy – this knowledge is sacred to Saiyans, and if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll kill ya."

"I understand," Trunks said somberly.

Osper lowered his head for a moment; he seemed to be gathering himself. When he raised his head, his eyes held a faraway look, and his voice was more rhythmic. "In the time of creation, the gods wished to make one race that was stronger than the others, capable of challenging the gods themselves in time. And great power they gave them - the harnessing of the ki, the strength of might and the desire for power. But in building this, the gods failed in one way – these children were selfish, pursuing their personal power at the costs of others of their kind. They fought each other, preferring fighting even over mating, and the race began to fail.

"But one god or goddess – they wisely do not tell us who – saw the way to give the Saiyans what they needed to survive. They needed to care for one another and to reproduce the next generation. And so the gods bound them through the mating bond.

"The Saiyans became compelled to search for the one to complete the bond. To find, they touched one another, seeing if the heat of their bodies inflamed the passions of the bond. To those who found it, the gods gifted their children with great strength and they rose above their genetically impure peers. And another, less thought-of gift – the truest companion any could ask for, one who knows your heart and mind and accepts all."

Spara added softly, "The gift is the continued improvement of the species. The price is the call of death."

"Only those strong enough to resist the call of death may survive the bond," Avia said, her voice thoughtful.

"Just as the King did several months ago," Osper said, shaking his head as his voice became normal. "Avia, you were there, by all reports – you saw the King nearly die. Only the intercession of the physician Bardock saved him. What could bring the Legendary low save the death of a bond-mate?"

"Let me get this straight," Trunks said. "The Saiyans can create genetically perfect children just by finding the right mate? But one mate's death could kill both?"

"Yes," Spara said. "And since bond-matings produce children almost without exception, and the King's line is gifted with sons, the true heir is out there, somewhere, probably unaware of his status." Trunks blinked with slow understanding as he realized that he was the person for whom they were looking. Spara continued, "It is said that as long as the King of the Saiyans pleases the gods, he will have a male line that stretches into infinity."

"And we want your help to find him," Osper added. "Avia, we've looked for a Saiyan woman who died on that night, who had no known mate or a false mate and who had a mysteriously powerful son. We've found nothing, and I'm starting to think that it's been covered up – that someone else knew what to look for, found it and hid it from us." Osper eyed the slave, his eyes narrowing as he caught the look of understanding that crossed the off-worlder's face.

"Why should I help you?" Avia answered haughtily. "You seek to depose my brother from his crown."

"It's not his crown!" Spara cried.

"It's all he has!" Avia shouted, then caught herself. She continued in a calmer voice, "He has been trained to do this since he was a baby. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Honestly?" Osper answered, catching up with the conversation again. "Because we want to find the bond-child, help train him to defeat the King and set himself up as the true ruler of Vegeta-sai. Because we need a ruler who won't kill a loyal subject to take his wife. Because we're tired of this arrogant ass who is subjugating us. We need a real ruler, and the missing bond-heir could be what we need."

"Then throw your support behind Vegeta," Avia said, her tone close to begging. "He is Montessi; he has a good heart and would be a good leader!"

"He's not the true heir, Avia," Spara said gently, "and that is the simple fact of it. Someday, the real heir will figure things out, and he'll step forward, and then your brother will be in a worse position, especially if he holds the crown at that time. Besides, with him being genetically impure, there's a fair chance that he'll never be strong enough to defeat the King."

"No one will take the crown from my brother," Avia snapped angrily.

Osper threw up his hands in surrender. "If you won't help us," Osper growled, "at least don't betray us to your mother or the King. But know this, Avia, we will find the true heir." With that, the older Saiyan turned and stomped away.

Spara hugged her cousin again, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Have your mother and brother come and see Mother. She misses her sister and her niece, and wants to meet Vegeta," she whispered to her cousin. When Avia nodded, Spara added, "And if you do decide to help us, you know where to find us. You are Saiyan; you should not have to say that you'll defend a King's crown for him. The King should do it himself." She jogged over to join her father as they lifted off together, curving off into the western sky.

Trunks was silent for a moment, trying to soak in all that had happened. "Avia," he finally ventured, "are you alright?"

"Yes, no, both," she answered wearily. "This is too much, Trunks."

"I know that Vegeta's the Prince and heir," Trunks said. "So his position seems secure."

"Until they find their bond-child!" Avia snorted. "And then, once they have him or think they have him, it won't matter whether my brother is a good man or not, only that he was born out of bond."

"Just as it doesn't matter that I am an Elite by your own best guess," Trunks said softly. "Believe me, Avia, I understand."

Avia shook her head unhappily. "I just don't know what to do," she sighed. "I can't rightly defend my brother and keep his crown for him."

Trunks put his arms around her and held her tight. "Maybe, the bond child won't want the crown," he suggested. "After all, it's a lot of work and you're always pissing someone off, no matter what you do."

"Maybe," Avia sighed, nestling deeper into his arms. "But I'd rather not find out."

But Trunks wasn't listening to her, instead he was hearing his mother. _"He did love me, with a passion that went beyond himself. And I felt the same way. Sometimes, I even knew what he was thinking. It tore something out of him when he decided to leave me with Bardock. I know; I felt his heart break."_

Nothing was said to Avia about not being at the opening ceremony, and she accepted that quietly, not wanting to ask any questions that might get her in trouble. Instead, she was swept up into the rest of the ceremonies – symbolic gifting ceremonies of furs and fire, parties of welcome and celebration, and displays of fighting prowess and Saiyan strength. Her only rest came at night, with Trunks.

Curled up in Trunks' arms, watching the fire burn, she mulled over the day's events. She was mostly tired, but she was also very concerned about Vegeta. Something had changed about him; her little brother was acting like his father. She had overheard him laughing at his father's mocking jokes about Montessi customs, but it was more than just catering to his father; he spent a lot of time degenerating Trunks. While Avia knew that Trunks could take care of himself, she had thought that her brother cared about the slave too. This sudden change was troubling.

"The King really isn't your father?" Trunks asked suddenly, drawing her attention to him.

She wiggled in his arm until she could look at his face and answered, "Yes, he really isn't, though he decreed that my father had never existed."

"Why?" Trunks asked with a frown.

"To cover his sin," Avia said simply. "He stole a bond-mate from her mate, forced her to be his, and all the while he had an unacknowledged mate. You know, if I just knew why he had done it, it might help me understand, but all I know is that he killed my father, and beat me if I spoke of him."

"He beat you for that?" Trunks said, looking at her with a shocked expression.

"It was against the law for anyone to speak his name or mention his existence," Avia answered, trying to keep her voice steady. "As a child, I understood it, but I hated it. And I hate him for putting me through all of it. I watched my father die; I watched my mother sign away her chance to join my father in death for my freedom. I hate him for taking me from the mountains to that hated desert where all the so-called real Saiyans looked down their nose at me. I hate him because I grew up hurt and afraid in a strange place." Her tail trembled against Trunk's thigh, tickling his leg; he quickly moved it, wrapping gentle fingers around it.

"Perhaps this isn't the time to mention this," Trunks murmured, "but my reaction to you – on the night of the Masquerade? It was because I thought he was your real father."

Avia sat up and turned to fully face him. As the fire heated her back, she murmured, "Then you hate him as much as I do?"

"Sort of," Trunks sighed, pulling the fur around his shoulders tighter. "It's complicated. I feel sorrier for him than anything else."

"You pity him?" Avia asked, confused.

"Well, yes. My mother," Trunks said, pausing as his voice caught. "My mother worked in the palace for a time, and she met him. She said he looked sad, like he had a terrible burden that he hid away from the world behind a wall of rage. She said that he had made some terrible mistake at some point."

"How did she know that?" Avia asked quietly. Trunks seemed contemplative, unguarded, and she tried not to break that spell.

"Well," Trunks said with a tight laugh as he realized he was treading on dangerous ground, "you have to understand, when Mom didn't know something, she'd make up a story about it. She used to tell me stories about everyone she knew at the palace; some of them were outrageous. But the ones she told about King Vegeta were always sad."

Avia looked at him speculatively, and Trunks tried not to flinch from her gaze. Finally, she leaned against him as she muttered, "Trunks, you really are a terrible liar. If you don't want to tell me something, just say so!"

"But, I didn't – why did you say that?"

"Trunks!" Avia laughed as she kissed him. "You are an open book to me. And you're just like my brother – you won't speak until your ready, so I just have to wait for you to be ready. Someday, you will tell me why your mother told sad stories about the King."


	22. Chapter 20 An Offer

And as much as Trunks wanted to live by the philosophy of waiting as well, there was one question he needed Prince Vegeta to answer quickly. It was nearly time for the hunting party to leave, and Trunks wanted to know what was going on. It took two days of concerted effort to catch up the Prince – Vegeta had been exceedingly busy. Trunks would admit that there had been family reunions and parties all the time, but Vegeta was still far too busy based on what was actually going on, and the demi-Saiyan was starting to wonder if the Saiyan was avoiding him.

His confirmation came the day before the hunting party was to leave; Trunks saw Prince Vegeta coming up the corridor. Trunks waved his hand; he saw Vegeta's eyes flicker, and then Vegeta was darting down a side hall, away from him. With a burst of anger, Trunks realized that Vegeta was definitely avoiding him. "What's wrong, Prince?" Trunks threw at Prince Vegeta's back as the Saiyan walked away from him. "Hey, don't you run away from me! I have a question for you."

Vegeta whirled on him, ki igniting in his fists as he swung at Trunks. The demi-Saiyan dodged easily, slapping the Prince's hands away from his body. "How dare you address me that way!" Vegeta barked, ignoring the fact that Trunks had just knocked his hands away. "I am the heir of Vegeta-sai!"

"Bullshit," Trunks snapped before he could stop himself. "I don't know what your problem is, but you are way out of line, here."

"What my problem is?" Vegeta mimicked him, leaning forward to sneer better. "My problem is that you are a slave who thinks that he's hot stuff just because he can fight."

Trunks jerked back as if Vegeta had hit him; in truth, the verbal attack hurt just as much as a punch. "That didn't used to matter," he growled angrily, wondering what the hell had gotten into his half-brother. "Not when we were in the Capitol and I could teach you. Is that it? Was I a handy punching bag, but now that you've realized that you're never going to ascend to the Legendary, you won't have anything to do with me? I thought we were friends!"

Vegeta crossed his arms and half-turned his back to Trunks, fighting to hide his hurt. Trunks had hit home with the comment about never becoming the Legendary. "We were never friends, slave," he sniffed haughtily. "It was convenient for you to think so at the time. And now I'm through with you. You're dismissed from my presence. And I will become the Legendary, without your help!"

Trunks stared at his half-brother, wanting to do anything to get back to where they had been. But Vegeta's face was set in imperious, stubborn lines, and the slave turned away. Half-way through his turn, Trunks stopped and twisted back. "You know," he said softly, "Saiyans always think that others hate them because they're jealous. But in truth, Saiyans are hated because they're bastards and cruel to other races, and they treat their own people like shit! And someday, they're going to pay for that hatred when one of their 'subjugated races' rises up and destroys them. Given me, how do you know that it won't be humans?"

Vegeta turned back to the slave, his golden eyes glinting in the sun. "Are you done with speech-making?" he asked disparagingly.

"Yeah, and everything else about you too," Trunks muttered as he gave an elaborate bow and stalked away.

Vegeta watched him go, righteousness battling guilt clearly across his face. "There's nothing else to do," he finally muttered and walked away, determined to find his father and try to make it through this trip. He just had to wait long enough for Trunks to go back to Bardock, back to obscurity and slavery; then his hold on the crown would be assured.

It perhaps wasn't his fault that he couldn't guess what would really happen – after all, the Saiyan gods had never taught their children the lesson of Pandora and her box.

The hunting party, consisting of most of the Saiyan and Montessi nobles, left Torganga early on the third morning. Three generations of royalty flew with them, which many in the party took to be a peculiar omen. Among the second and third-class Montessi watching, all they saw was their prince, the one that shared their glowing eyes and dark skin, flying with the other nobles. Many saw this as a bad sign, for they knew what the King was truly hunting.

Only three nobles remained behind: Cyrane, Avia and Nappa. Cyrane and Avia watched the group fly deep into the mountains with hooded expressions – they also suspected what the King might be hunting. Nappa alternated his hungry glances between the sky and Avia. He had remained behind to serve as the traditional honor guard; largely a punishment duty, but it would be worth it if he could sway her to his side.

The women had made other plans – a visit to the Seer on the Blood-Rock was required for any Montessi returning home after a long trip abroad, and both women could use the visit. Though Avia was heartened by the fact that she would finally visit the Seer as an adult, she was sad that Trunks could not come, a fact that had been enforced emphatically by her mother. Added to the fact that Nappa was accompanying them, Avia's pleasure at the prospect of visiting the Blood-Rock was greatly diminished.

After the hunting party disappeared to the south, Cyrane took her daughter's hand and gently steered her up into the sky, heading east by southeast. Nappa gave them a respectful distance, and then followed. While he wouldn't be allowed to set foot on the Blood-Rock, he would be allowed to remain nearby, and that was good enough for him.

Trunks watched everyone leave as a sense of loneliness settling over him. The loneliness lifted once, when Avia glanced back at him and gave him a sad, subtle wave – they had said their real goodbyes this morning - then she was gone, and it came crashing back. Grandfather hadn't left any instructions, and none of the servants in the Montessi castle paid him any attention. With a sigh, Trunks decided to show himself around the palace.

It was a lovely structure, and it was a shame no one lived here. This had once been the seat of power for the Montessian people; now the palace was vacant most of the time. It had become a symbol of the subjugation of the Montessi. Maintained by a legion of servants, the hallowed Heart of the Montessi was only used at those rare occasions when the King of the united Saiyan Empire came for a visit. Considering that this was the first time Vegeta had been here in nearly twenty years, it seemed an awful waste to Trunks.

He had spent the better part of three hours exploring when he turned around a corner and nearly ran into Osper. "Oh, uh hi," Trunks said, giving the burly Saiyan a half-wave. "Everyone left this morning, you know."

"I know," Osper said evenly, "but I didn't come looking for them, I came looking for you."

"For me?" Trunks gasped, trying to look surprised rather than guilty.

"Sure," Osper said, moving steadily toward the slave, his measured pace meant to be intimidating, "because you know something you didn't tell me the other day, when we were talking about the bond-heir."

"Why would I know anything?" Trunks hedged.

"I don't know why you would know something, but you've been in the palace," Osper shrugged, "and you might have heard rumors."

"I really don't know anything," Trunks said, trying to throw out a disarming smile.

"You really don't lie too well, do you child?" Osper said with a chuckle. "Not lying is good practice, but when you can't lie… Well, let's just say that you've got it or you don't, and you don't."

"I don't know of any rumors regarding the bond-heir," Trunks said, frowning and backing up from the man. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Why? Because of Avia and her love for her brother? Because of the fake princeling?" Osper grunted. "I love my niece, but she has a blind spot concerning her baby brother." Osper sighed and threw his arms out wearily. "If I thought the lad could defeat his father, I would throw support behind him – he seems like a good enough brat.

"But he can't take his father in a fight for the crown," Osper continued in a growl, "and it will be decades before he can, if ever. No, I'm sure only the bond-heir will be stronger; only he can take the crown."

"I can't help you," Trunks said, folding his hand together to hide their trembling.

"The King we have now is a petulant child," Osper growled, pressing his point. "He's a petty dictator – you've seen it! He could have made the difference in the crime regarding your mother – don't look so surprised, boy, I was curious about you. Shall I continue to list his offenses? He killed Avia's father so that he could steal her mother. He betrayed his bond-mate, and forced another woman to pose as his mate. And that is just what he's done to his family; the list goes on, and will keep going on, unless you help me stop him. Vegeta-sai needs a real ruler, one who won't be afraid to change things and make things better. Doesn't that appeal to you; that one slave could make the difference to a world?"

Trunks eyes snapped up to meet the Saiyan's, who nodded a fervent confirmation. "You could save the Saiyan race from the family that has ground them under their heel for centuries," Osper whispered. "Oblivion, the bond-heir, once King, would have the power to free the slaves, give them rights – and you could make that happen!"

_"If I had one gift that I could give you Trunks," Bulma whispered into the child's ear as he hungrily watched the Saiyan children playing in the courtyard below, "I would give you your freedom. No parent should birth their child into slavery, and I'm sorry that I did that to you. I just wanted you to know that I would do anything, anything, if only I could see you free."_

Bulma's words burned in Trunks' mind. "Do you swear that you'll support the freeing of the slaves?" Trunks hissed, afraid to take this chance and afraid not to.

"Boy, the Montessi don't keep slaves," Osper growled. "It's not honorable to enslave weaker beings."

"If you swear that you'll help free the slaves, and that you'll support the right of the bond-heir, I'll tell you who he is," Trunks said.

"Can you convince him to help us?" Osper gasped, excitement making his breath quicken.

Trunks laughed mirthlessly and said, "Oh, I already know that he'll help you."

"You do?" Osper said, confusion clear on his face. "How?"

"Because he was born a slave, his mother was killed because she was a slave, and he's _tired_ of it," Trunks smiled grimly. "He wants to end it." And as doubt began to fill Osper's face, Trunks grasped the golden light and pulled it forth until it engulfed him. He had hidden it away so long, he had forgotten the sweet warmth of it and the power that danced at his call. It filled him, soaring out of his body, shaking the palace until it sang from the harmonics. He had forgotten the joy of it, and as he watched it shine like a brilliant sun on Osper's frightened face, he laughed.

And then he laughed more, though with bitterness, not joy, when he realized that he sounded exactly like his father.

Please review!


	23. Chapter 21 A Choice

The Seeing Chamber was not what she had expected. Avia hadn't known what to expect, though Cyrane's content expression upon leaving had been encouraging. But this small round cavern with a small pool in the center was not what she had in mind. Of course the massage she had experienced just before entering hadn't been expected either. She had the unsettling feeling, one she had had often in the last three days, that though she might say she was Montessi she had been gone from them so long that she was no longer one of the mountain Saiyans. The thought that her pride in her heritage could so easily be removed from her spirit wounded her, but there was little she could do about it except cling to what she had left, and try to regain the rest.

The black-robed priest, faced hidden under the deep cowl and sex hidden under his or her bulky garment, waved her deeper into the cavern. A ring of seven acolytes, distinguishable from priests only by their red cloaks, sat against the walls. As she entered the chamber they began to hum, a deep resonating sound that seemed to shake her very bones. An eighth acolyte was kneeling by the pool; when Avia looked at him or her, the Saiyan stood up and moved over to her, reaching for the clasp of her grey robe. Avia allowed the acolyte to remove it, glad that they kept the room warm when she stood only in her own oil-slicked skin.

There was one other here who was not an acolyte – an old woman in a black robe sat cross legged at the long end of the oval pool. "Begin," the crone intoned.

The acolyte who had removed her robe stepped back to the pool and picked up a ladle lying next to its edge. The humming acolytes silenced abruptly as the eighth acolyte dipped it in the pool reverently. Slowly, so as not to spill a drop, the acolyte crossed back to Avia and poured the dipper of water over her head. The acolytes began to hum again, but this time, half of them hummed a counter-rhythm to the others, creating a pulsing sound that made Avia's heart pound.

The water was heated; even so Avia felt a chill as it crossed her skin. As it poured down her body, she noticed that there were red flecks floating in it, and in places they clung to her skin and hair.

"As you stand, flecked in the red slivers of blood-rock, so stood our ancestor the day that the great groborzk found him on the rock over our heads," the Seer said, her voice echoing throughout the small cavern. "This monster was killing villages, eating without hunger, destroying everything in its path. But the Legendary stood his ground against the creature, and on that day the red that flecked him was his own blood from his own wounds. And the rocks under his feet, that had before the battle been black, so too were they red with his blood. And still the Legendary screamed his defiance and strength to the heavens. And so again will the Legendary come, to pour his blood over this rock, and save his people. Enter the water and sit on the center stone."

Avia stepped into the red-flecked water as the servant poured more water over her head. It seemed strange, to step into a pool filled with floating slivers of red rock while strangers watched you, but she did it, knowing it was something a Montessi would do. Each step or movement of her body stirred the water, spinning the flecks of rock around her as she settled on the submerged stone seat. Where the flecks touched her oil-slicked body, they clung, and they clung to each other until she was surrounded by a nebula of red. They scattered away from her like lace, creating crazy see-saw patterns across the water. Finally, she settled, and they stopped pouring the water over her head. It was only when the water was completely still did the Seer speak.

"As you sit, staring at your red-marked skin, remember that your ancestor paid with his blood – we can ask no less of you, Montessi." Avia lifted her head high and squared her shoulders. She _would_ be Montessi. The Seer studied the water for a moment, reading the current of time with her sharp eye.

"With your mother's reading, I saw an unburdening," the grizzled old Saiyan woman murmured as her eyes sought hints of the future in the patterns of the rock. "With your reading, I see a great burden to come. It will be difficult to bear; you must choose between pride and love." Avia frowned, but otherwise didn't move – even speaking could shift the water, and she needed to remain as still as possible.

Then Seer's eyes widened, and she gasped, "Now I see a form sheathed in golden light! It is terrible in its fury and holy in its gaze!" Her eyes widened further, and she shrieked, "It is a female Saiyan, who bears this great power, who holds the empire in her hand!" As Avia fought to remain still, the crone began to rock back and forth, still screaming, hands hovering near her eyes as if she wanted to cover them and couldn't. "By the gods, she will destroy us all! She wields--"

One of the servants slapped the surface of the water, scattering the pattern of the flakes, and the Seer's words became incoherent cries. One of the servants grabbed the old woman, gently restraining her while another waved a brazier of burning herbs before her. Slowly, her cries died away, until the Seer hung limp in the servant's arms, her chest rising and falling slowly with the deepness of sleep.

"What just happened?" Avia said softly, working her way out of the water.

As one of the servants helped her out and draped the robe around her, the priest guarding the door answered, "She became overwrought by something she saw. It can happen." His voice labeled him as male.

"And what exactly does that mean?" Avia growled.

The priest ran his fingers around the hem of his cowl as he shrugged. "It can mean little or it can mean much. What it means will be known in time."

"You know, that is not really helpful," Avia sighed as she tugged her robe shut.

The priest smiled, flashing white teeth under the dark hood. "Well, we're priests, not teachers – we're not actually required to make sense, or really be helpful. Are you ready to begin your purification?"

Avia nodded, hoping that this go more smoothly than her visit to the oracle. The fact that it took nearly a month was bad enough; if it was all as nerve-wracking as the first ritual had been, she wasn't sure it would be all that relaxing.

Prince Vegeta had had the time of his life for nearly three weeks. At first, it had been boring, meandering through the mountains, but he was with his father, doing adult things, and then they had found a groborzk. It had taken nearly twenty minutes to kill the giant lizard-cat, even with the numbers they had, especially since the King did not become the Legendary for the fight so that the beast would last longer. After that, they were deep enough in the wilds that they continued to find a steady stream of creatures to hunt, and Prince Vegeta had forgotten all of the troubles that had plagued him. Forgotten, until they found the camp nestled in a green valley.

King Vegeta stopped over a rag-tag cluster of tents and rough huts, hovering in the air. "Just where she'd said it would be," he muttered with a grim smile.

"Who said?" Lord Vegeta asked, hovering next to his son. He, too, had been enjoying himself, but he had a bad feeling, looking at his son.

In answer, King Vegeta powered up, white light dancing over his skin. He didn't have to say anything – the look on his face was enough. "But those are Saiyans!" Prince Vegeta said, staring at the people moving below them. He didn't add that he couldn't sense anything higher than a second-class down there; the King had nothing but Elites with him.

"Saiyans who are dissidents to the throne," King Vegeta growled. The closest Saiyans growled in anticipation; the Montessi nobles exchanged quiet, calculating looks. "They're traitors to my throne, son, and they'll be dealt with as such." The King plunged into a drop, diving into a fiery plunge as he fell, fists glowing with energy. Prince Vegeta saw many of the nobles following him; only Lord Vegeta and the Montessi held back.

After a moment, he followed his father down. He nearly turned back when he saw his father blast a Saiyan into dust, but he reminded himself that they were traitors, and all deserved death. It was very different, killing Saiyans, than it was killing beasts, and slowly, the Prince destroyed his pleasure with each glowing strike.

Trunks dropped to his knees as the massive creature rolled onto its side and lay twitching. Panting, his body aching, Trunks twisted to look at Osper, who was hovering nearby. "What – was that – thing?" Trunks gasped at his first supporter. He was sure that he didn't want to do that again – he had had to go to the Legendary to defeat it.

Osper shook his head, but Trunks could tell it was a mark of disbelief, not a refusal. "A groborzk," Osper said, wonder tainting his voice. When he looked at Trunks, there was a shine of awe in his eyes. "Our legends say that only the Legendary could defeat a groborzk single-handed."

Uncomfortable with Osper gaze of near-worship, Trunks shrugged and attempted a feeble joke, "Well, I used both my hands – does that still count?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Osper said, but some of that adoration was gone, and Trunks relaxed, turning to look at the beast he had just killed. It had taken an hour of concentrated effort, of pushing himself to the limit, to kill the thing. He glanced again at the corded muscles in the thick torso that belied the short, thick legs and the flat, triangular teeth as big as his hand as he shuddered again. Trunks hadn't been sure he would win that fight. Osper broke into his train of thoughts with a gruff, "Now what?"

Trunks sighed, knowing from the last three weeks of non-stop hunting that suggesting a rest would only get him a lecture on how hard he had to work to defeat the King. These people might nearly worship him, but they sure weren't going to let him off the hook. Heck, even a request to clean his wounds was met by quiet discomfort, as if he had said something wrong. Instead, he said, "Let's head a little more south – we don't want to get too far from the palace."

"Heya!" a call came from Spara, who was waving at them while looking over the edge of the cliff. "There's another one, Trunks! And it's even bigger."

"Oh, hell," Trunks sighed, his mother's favorite curse sounding strange and yet comforting. Osper couldn't know what it meant, but he caught its meaning, and Trunks saw doubt creep into his face.

Trunks growled and shoved himself to his feet. "Let's go," he said and reached for the golden light. As the reflecting glow washed over Osper's face, it wiped the doubt away. That's how it always went – he would do something to remind them he wasn't a Saiyan, and they would begin to doubt. But that doubt would be erased by his becoming the Legendary. Somehow, he was going to have to find the middle ground.

But as he rocketed over the edge of the cliff and slammed into the black-scaled monster, he wasn't certain that he would survive the search for the middle ground.

Avia sat on the edge of the rock step, staring off to the west. Somewhere, she could feel Trunks with a certainty that frightened her. She could sense her brother's ki off the southwest, somewhere, but she couldn't close her eyes and point straight at him with reliability. She was sure that if she followed the sense that was Trunks, she could pinpoint him accurately.

She missed him horribly. And not just at night in bed, but at quiet moments like these. He had a way of finding her when she needed his company most and giving her what she needed at the moment. And right now, she needed him to tell her that it was all right she didn't feel like a Montessi, even after weeks of purification. She wasn't quite sure how long hours of mediation in smoky chambers qualified as purification, but Cyrane had declared that it was, and she was so relaxed that Avia felt she should be as well.

She shook her head, the reality of the situation grinding her spirit down. She didn't feel like a Montessi, Trunks would go back to Bardock soon, and she wouldn't see him anymore. Unless… Unless she bought him. The thought was so simple that Avia couldn't believe that she hadn't already thought of it, but her elation quickly faded. "Do I really want to purchase my mate?" she asked herself aloud; she was sure that Trunks would not like it either.

What she said almost escaped her. Then she heard her own words and frowned, trying to make sense of them. _My mate?_, she thought, frowning with confusion. _He is not even Saiyan! How could he be my mate?_

Something was very wrong here. She closed her eyes, feeling out as far as she could for ki signatures. She found Trunks' with ease, even though her brother's was faint to her. _He must be closer_, she thought, gazing at the horizon where she knew him to be.

Trunks' ki exploded with sudden power, and Avia gasped, holding one hand up before her eyes, blocking a blazing sun that wasn't there. The sense of power kept growing, expanding like an exploding star before settling out at an incredible level – a level she had felt only once before. Her scouter – it would give her numbers – numbers she comprehend better than this blinding power. Her hands reached to her belt, fumbling for her scouter before she remembered that she had left it in her room with her regular clothes. Gathering her gray robe around her, she turned and shot for her room, flying through the sacred hallways.

She slammed to a stop and spent several precious moments digging through her pack to find her scouter. With shaking hands, she put it on, cursing when it indicated that the power surge was out of range. She had to go – she had to find out what—

Her purification; if she left, she would have to start over, if they would even let her do so. The thought stopped her in her tracks. She only had one more day to go. That sense of power, now that she was paying attention to it, drew her like a moth to flame. And somehow, that swirling vortex was Trunks. Torn between her heritage and her love, she hesitated, unsure.

With the pain of loss in her heart, she made her choice.


	24. Chapter 22 A Traitor

In case you are all wondering about the sudden burst of posting, I can say only this – This is what happens when my works get reviewed. Thanks to all how have read and all who have reviewed.

Nappa dropped the red-tailed varnek's body, feeling satisfaction at the ease of the hunt. The armored shell of the varnek has slowed him, but he had still taken it out easily.

A streak of white light raced through the sky over his head, and the giant looked up. It was a Saiyan, but they were moving so fast that they were gone almost before Nappa realized it. He turned on his ever-present scouter and checked the ki signature.

Nappa frowned when he saw it was Avia's. "You're supposed to be at the temple for another day!" he growled, then powered up and gave pursuit. He was fast, but she was fast too, and he settled in for a long flight when he realized that he wasn't going to catch her anytime soon.

Prince Vegeta's heart sank as his father stopped over a village – a real town, with houses, businesses and Montessi. "Are you sure they came this way?" his father said to the Saiyan noble hovering next to him.

The noble nodded. "Yes, Your Highness, the traitor fleeing the camp came here. I followed him all the way," the Saiyan assured him.

"And they didn't turn him out?" King Vegeta asked.

"No, they didn't, my King," the noble said, anticipation warming his voice.

"And by harboring traitors, they are treasonous too," the King nodded. "Kill them all."

A Montessi boy stood up below them, staring up at them; Prince Vegeta realized that the third-class child was almost the same age as Vegeta himself. As the waiting nobles watched, he began to approach the party. "Him first," the King said, "before he cries warning and scatters them."

"What?" Prince Vegeta yelped. "Father, he's just a child!" He didn't see the fist, his father moved so fast. The prince spun twice in the air before catching himself, staring up at his father.

"Never question me!" the King roared, the whine of him powering up terrifyingly loud at this range. "Now, boy, you take care of that peasant."

Prince Vegeta stared at the boy looking curiously at them, waiting for the Elites to notice him before approaching and probably wondering what the nobles were fighting about. He studied the boy's skin, hair, eyes; it was so close to his own. He thought of his mother, and what she would feel – and he heard Trunks' voice saying, "treat their own people like shit!" _If I am to be King_, Vegeta realized, _I will have to be a different King than my father, or nothing will change. Trunks is right; this is wrong, all wrong._

"No," he said, looking his father in the eye. "And you cannot make me do it either."

The King's face grew red with fury, but Prince Vegeta did not back down. "How dare you defy me?" King Vegeta screamed and threw himself at his son, fists glowing.

Prince Vegeta shot backwards, away from his father, to give himself time to reach his stance. When King Vegeta struck at him, Prince Vegeta blocked the blow with his arm, sliding it down his arm, redirecting the force. His forearm stung, but he had stopped it! Still trembling with elation, he shouted at his father, "I defy you because you're wrong! You're wrong to treat people this way!"

The King's face turned nearly purple with rage, and Prince Vegeta felt his first stirring of fear. Lord Vegeta intervened, grabbing the King's arm, pulling him away from his son. "Vegeta, stop it! He's not some puppet; let him have his op--"

King Vegeta didn't even look at his father; at this range, he didn't need to. He merely thrust his grabbed arm at his father and shot a ki blast into Lord Vegeta's face. The blast was blinding to those merely watching; none of the hovering elites were surprised to see the ruined remains of the former King fall to the ground.

"No!" Prince Vegeta shrieked, extending his arm toward his falling grandfather. King Vegeta took advantage of the opening and slammed his fist into his son's back. Prince Vegeta turned to face his father, moving into a fighting stance. "Why?" he screamed. "He's your father!"

"And you're my son," the King said with a thin smile. Prince Vegeta had just enough time to feel fear spread up his spine before his father began the fight in earnest with a strong right cross.

Prince Vegeta didn't try to block this time; he used his shorter stature to hunker down under the swing and throw his own punch forward. The fist took his father square in the gut; the older Saiyan grunted in surprise at the strength in his son's punch. "I guess all that extra training paid off for you boy," the King growled. "Relent of your stance, help me raze the village, and I'll forgive you – this time."

"No!" Prince Vegeta hissed. "I'll never fight by your side again – I see what that earns you!"

King Vegeta arched his back and screamed, calling more power forward. Prince Vegeta gulped with a suddenly dry throat as his father's power level shot well above his own. Then his father blurred, disappeared –

He had anticipated the double-fisted punch in the center of his back, but Prince Vegeta couldn't move fast enough to avoid it. Instead, he started to tumble to the ground, breath knocked from him, when his father pushed him up into the air again with a kick to the gut that sent pain screaming through the muscles. And that was just the start, for the beating when on and on until it all blurred into endless pain.

When Prince Vegeta was finally allowed to tumble to the ground to collapse bonelessly next to his grandfather, he was only relieved that he had not given into his father, despite the pain. With effort, he pulled himself over to his grandfather, ripping his gloves off to feel for a pulse. He had been sure that there wouldn't be, but to have that fragile hope destroyed sapped his remaining energy. He collapsed on his grandfather's cooling body and cried like a child as he listened to his father and the other elites destroy the village.

Avia slammed to a stop, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. A large groborzk, its black scales shimmering in the sunlight, lunged at the form in the golden light. The figure twisted away from the massive maw, grabbing at the whiskers that lined its mouth. As the groborzk's head continued on the arc past the Legendary fighting it, the Legendary yanked on the whisker he had grabbed. It tore lose with the horrible sound of skin ripping, and the groborzk shrieked as it lost the delicate appendage.

Nappa appeared next to her, and she scowled at him. Preparing to lay into him, she was interrupted by him asking, "Who is that?" Avia's eyes widened as she focused on the face inside that glowing cloud. _Trunks!_, she thought, afraid to voice her realization. But that didn't stop Nappa; he gasped and shouted, "No, not the slave!" His voice was the agonized cry of a man's world crumbling.

"My Trunks," Avia murmured, filling her heart swell with overwhelming emotion, but she didn't get long to consider this turn of events. With a sobbing snarl of despair, Nappa pointed glowing hands at the slave. Avia didn't think; she brought her forearms down on Nappa's arms, knocking the blast away. "No!" Avia cried. "Nappa, leave him be!"

"Why?" the Saiyan growled. "Because he's so good in bed? He's a slave Avia, not a Saiyan!"

"He's my mate!" she shouted as she punched him in the chin. The statement had been so instinctual; it had just popped out. Somehow, she realized, she was his mate, and he hers.

Nappa roared, "No, I am your mate! I can feel the bond! I can feel you in my soul!"

"All you're feeling is foolish pride," Avia snarled, "to think that I could ever be your mate!"

"Avia!" Spara's call distracted the woman; when she glanced at her cousin, Nappa kicked her with a sharp hook kick, knocking her away and down from the fight. She caught herself almost immediately, faster than Nappa expected, giving him almost no time to fire his blast at Trunks. He barely got it off before Avia's blast caught him in the gut, sending him spiraling away from her.

The groborzk has retracted its head, coiling its long, thick body for another strike. Trunks' ribs ached badly, and he could see dots of blood staining his bodysuit. Fortunately, when the creature had last caught him in its mouth, the teeth had barely penetrated his skin; he only wished that it hadn't bruised him so badly. He was calling for a break after this, and the sentiments of Osper be damned!

The ki blast caught him in the lower back, spinning him closer to the groborzk and knocking him out of stance. The groborzk was no fool; the grizzled bull groborzk had fought for its territory for years, and knew an opening when it saw one. He snapped forward, not to bite, but to wrap his coiling body around his opponent. He could bite and claw at the ends of the creature, or squeeze it to death if he couldn't reach his audacious prey.

Trunks was suddenly blind and suffocated, pinned in the coils of the monster. He didn't even get a chance see who had hit him with the bolt. With considerable effort, Trunks placed both hands against the creature's body and built power, screaming as it reached excruciating levels. The groborzk had just enough time to realize that his prey was doing something extremely painful when the blast exploded in his side. It tore a terrible hole, and the bull groborzk screeched as it fell into shock and collapsed.

Trunks screamed again as the backlash washed over him, but he was simply happy to be able to be able to draw breath after the scream. The groborzk's coils slithered further open, and Trunks dropped to the ground, clutching his ribs. The black-green body shuddered once and was still, and Trunks fell to his knees, wrapping both arms around his torso.

"Child, child, are you alright?" Osper shouted, grabbing Trunks arms and shaking him lightly. The golden aura hissed and crackled over Osper's arms, and he showed the whites of his eyes as he realized that he was man-handling the bond-heir.

"For the love of God, don't do that," Trunks hissed as his muscles protested the forced movement, but Osper was already releasing his arms. "Who fired that ki blast?"

"Some bald Saiyan," Spara said, pointing the direction that Nappa had gone flying. "Avia's chasing him."

"Avia? Here?" Trunks gasped, turning pale. "And that Saiyan sounds like Nappa!"

"Who is he?" Osper asked.

"Trouble," Trunks growled. "He's fanatically loyal to the King."

"Then we'll have to kill him before he can warn King Vegeta," Osper said, shooting up into the air, flying after Nappa and Avia.

Review!


	25. Chapter 23 A Saiyan

And another! I'm going to spoil you. ; 

Spara hesitated, then came back to Trunk's side. "Are you ok?"

Trunks nodded, ignoring the pain that the movement caused him. "I'm fine," he grunted and shoved himself to his feet. The ki blast hadn't hurt much, but it had given the groborzk the upper hand for a second. Gods, his ribs ached; at times like this, he wished that he was still a simple servant, with a simple life. "Let's get them."

Spara shot off into the air. Trunks pushed himself off the ground; despite both Spara and Osper's headstarts, he quickly overtook them. Ahead of him, the tails from Avia's and Nappa's flight sparkled, but they were coming closer as well. A grin cut his face as he was easily going to catch up to Nappa, despite his injuries.

Sometimes, it was nice being stronger than almost anyone else.

Nappa felt fear constrict his throat as he glanced over his shoulder and saw the slave gaining. He had seen too much, he was sure of that, and now he would suffer for it. It was so damn unfair that this slave was the Legendary!

Desperately, he pushed himself harder, knowing it was useless, but trying anyway. His last thought, as golden hands slammed into his back and knocked him to the ground, was that he had failed to warn the King. The knowledge that it was an impossible task was no comfort; any failure was still devastating to a Saiyan's pride.

Trunks dropped to the ground next to Nappa, pleased to see that he still breathed. Avia landed next to him after a moment, and Trunks was nearly knocked over as she grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Ack! Ribs!" he gasped, trying to pull her arms away. "Watch my ribs." Avia released him, cupping her hands around his face. Trunks jerked back with a yelp; his cheeks even hurt. "Watch everything, Avia; I ache everywhere."

"As well you should, after fighting a groborzk," Avia growled, but her voice echoed with worry, not anger. After a second, she added with a slight crack in her voice, "When I saw you, fighting that thing-"

"You were worried," Trunks guessed with a smile. "Trust me, so was I."

"No," she said fiercely, "I was proud!" Her beaming smile and gleaming eyes echoed her words.

Trunks shook his head. "Saiyans are so weird," he sighed as he gently touched her cheek.

"I was worried, too," she said softly after a moment, her voice nearly a whisper as if she were telling a secret. "But," she added with a sharp snap to her voice, "I would never disgrace you by saying so to anyone else!"

"You _are_ acting funny," Trunks said, taking her hands. "Avia, please don't treat me different because I'm… because I can…"

"But I have to treat you differently," she said, her golden eyes fluttering away from him. "You are an equal, a warrior of proven power. I can't treat you as a slave."

"I'm still me," Trunks said, hearing the plea in his voice. "I'm just Trunks."

Avia gazed at him sadly. "You're the Legendary," she said pointedly. A sudden frown crossed her face, and her sorrow turned to suspicion. "_You_ are the Legendary?"

"You knew I was stronger than you," he said quietly.

"But the Legendary!" Avia exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to tell you, that I was a half-breed?" Trunks said. "You know what the law is concerning half-breeds-" He trailed off at the look on her face. "Oh, you didn't know that either?" he asked sheepishly.

"Half-breed?" Avia gasped, as the pieces finally all snapped together. "Trunks, are you-- are you the bond-heir?"

"I am," he said calmly.

Avia pulled away from Trunks. She needed to think, to absorb all that had happened. _Gods, I am so stupid!_, she thought, as memory after memory offered a clue to the truth – a countless chain of clues that she had ignored. Trunks looked a little hurt from her withdrawal, but he quietly waited for her to do or say something. Finally, all she could say was, "Does Vegeta know?"

Trunks frowned. "He knows that I'm a Legendary, but not the bond-heir."

Avia shook her head wryly as a thought occurred to her. "No wonder you mother told sad stories about the King," she murmured. "He must have broken her heart."

Osper and Spara landed nearby; Osper was laughing heartily. "That was a merry chase, boy!" he cried and pounded Trunks on the back. Trunks bit back a scream and instead gave Osper a weak smile.

"Not so hard, Uncle!" Avia said chidingly. It was surprising how easy it was for her to pretend for a moment that nothing was wrong; to pretend she wasn't a stupid fool who was bound to a half-breed. "You'll hurt yourself on the Legendary's back!"

"That I will!" he roared approval. His approval faded when Nappa stirred briefly. "He's still alive?"

"I thought I could use him when I'm King," Trunks grinned, and Avia's heart flipped at his smile. Well, part of her certainly didn't care about his change in status. "Someone will have to be in charge of sanitation!"

Avia gaped at Trunks. He was acting so… Saiyan. She was suddenly both more and less sure of him. Had he changed that quickly? In just a few weeks, had she lost her slave and become bound to this stranger?

"Good one, Prince Trunks!" Osper giggled. Avia now gaped at her uncle. Osper giggling? It didn't quite seem real. But he was, and there was a distinct glint of hero-worship in his eyes. Avia shook her head. It didn't seem real that Osper was reacting this way to her Trunks.

She looked at Trunks again, really looked at him. He had, she realized with a sinking heart, changed, subtlety, but changed nonetheless. It was there in the way he held himself, in the look on his face. He was … calmer, stronger. And that sadness that he had always had was faded, and nearly gone. It was the same sadness she now knew.

Trunks had found himself; he knew who he was, and what he was doing. Would she be able to do the same?

Trunks grunted softly as he settled carefully into the regeneration tank; the padded seat felt wonderful after both the beating he had received and the long flight back to the palace. He briefly closed his eyes to compose them; when he opened them, Avia was in front of the tank, her eyes worried, just as they had been since he told her he was half-Saiyan. He hadn't told her who his father was, but he was pretty sure that she already knew. The fact that he was Legendary named his father rather effectively.

He had worried how she would handle it, and now that the moment had arrived, he wasn't sure that this was the reaction he was expecting. Calm and quiet was not what he had pictured. As Osper leaned in to apply the sensor pads to his chest – he realized with a slight shock that he was already getting used to people doing things for him – he said, "I'm sorry, I should have told you."

"No," she said suddenly. "I wasn't ready before." She gave an ironic smile. "As my conversation with Uncle Osper made clear several weeks ago."

Trunks frowned, unsure of her reasons for remaining calm. "You don't have to agree with me because I'm a Legendary." Gods knew he had enough of that from Osper and Spara.

Avia quirked her eyebrow at him, irritation crossing her face as she grumped, "As if I would. You're assuming I care."

"And you don't?" Trunks said, not quite believing it.

Avia hesitated, and Trunks was going to bet her real answer was yes when she said, "Yes and no. Saiyans follow the strongest, and the Legendary is the strongest of the strong. Some part of me wants to fear that power." She paused, and finally added, "But you're also just Trunks to me."

"So you'll be here when I get out of the tank?" he murmured, a little startled that he had actually said it.

Avia nodded, and Trunks realized just how afraid he was that he would lose her over this. And suddenly, as the possibility of their future opened up, he also saw the complexities that future would bring. And there were other, unrelated things: what about Bardock? Technically, the scientist owned the future King. The oddities of the whole situation hit him all at once, and he realized just how far outside of Saiyan norms he was.

Osper had pulled himself back out of the tank; he was reaching back in with the mask when Avia took it from him. "Allow me, Uncle," she said in a polite tone. Osper handed her the mask with a knowing smile and stepped back.

Trunks watched as his Avia leaned in; as he had expected, she slid in far enough to give him a kiss. "We will talk when you're out," she promised and matched his gentle smile. He nodded, already half-asleep; he must have been pushing himself really hard if just sitting down made him fight to remain awake. She gently affixed the mask, checking it carefully to make sure it was sitting right. Then she slipped back out of the pod and shut the door. He watched her as the blue fluid covered him; all too soon, he was in a wonderful deep, healing sleep.

Little did he know how badly he would need his rest.

Hands shook her roughly, and Avia slowly clawed out of sleep. The hands on her shoulders were her mother's; when the Queen saw her daughter blinking at her she pulled her into a hug and said, "Where did you go? Why didn't you finish the purification?"

"Mother," Avia said groggily, pushing away from the wall she had slept against, "I had to come here. What are you doing here?"

Cyrane smiled and stroked her daughter's hair. "Daughter, I finished the purification and the priests told me you had left before you were finished," she said, her voice concerned and gentle. "Why did you leave? You know that you'll have to start over again, right?"

Avia remembered suddenly why she had come. Sleepiness fled before a wave of panic. Cyrane could warn the King; in fact, she would warn the King to save the crown for Vegeta. Quickly, Avia extended her senses, reaching for King Vegeta. With a gasp, she realized he was close, very close, maybe an hour or so away.

Frantically, she pushed past her mother and dashed to the controls, checking how long Trunks had left. About an hour; when the machine was this close to completion, it would become vague about the time left, as everyone healed at a different rate.

"Why is the slave in the regen tank?" Cyrane's question was like a terrible blow to Avia.

Review!!!


	26. Chapter 24 A Connection

"Why is the slave in the regen tank?" Cyrane's question was like a terrible blow to Avia. She gripped the tank's consol, trying to think of something to say as she glanced at her mother. Cyrane was frowning at the regeneration tank.

"He was badly hurt in an accident," Osper said, walking through the doorway. "Sister, it is good to see you again."

Cyrane folded into a quick hug with her brother. "Osper, what is going on?" she asked, her eyes sweeping the room. Avia's silence and the tension in Osper's gaze all told her something was going on, but she couldn't imagine what. "I want to know what is going on here," she said, adding a snap to her voice when no one answered.

"The boy was hurt," Osper said simply. "Since there were no nobles around, we let him use the tank."

Cyrane turned to him, her eyes wide at his audacity. "You recalibrated an entire tank for a slave?" she sputtered. "Osper, what were you thinking?"

Osper shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Humans are remarkably similar to Saiyans in their physiology, so little needed to be done to the tank," he remarked.

"Still Osper, I don't know what you were thinking," Cyrane huffed. "Let's get him out and reset the tank. We don't want to play favorites."

"He's only got an hour left," Avia said quietly. "I don't think leaving him for an hour will hurt."

Cyrane considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Fine, we'll leave him for an hour," she said, turning toward the main exit. "Avia, let's get you back to the Blood-rock. You need to restart your rituals."

"I'm not going," Avia said firmly. She hasn't been sure she could say it, but when she did, she knew that there was no other answer she could have given. She had promised Trunks she would be here when he woke up.

Cyrane froze, her hands closing into fists. Slowly, she turned to face her daughter; everyone in the room could see the effort she was putting into control herself. "What did you say?" she said with forced evenness.

"I said, I'm not going," Avia said, stepping away from the consol. "I'm staying here."

"Is there a reason you're defying me?" Cyrane asked.

Avia couldn't stop herself; her eyes flicked toward the regen tank. Cyrane caught the glance and gave an aggravated moan. "Avia, stop it right now!" she snarled. "He's a slave. While I don't mind you sleeping with him or spending time with him, you will not sacrifice your heritage for a weak creature not even strong enough to be free!"

"I told him I'd be here when he woke up," Avia stated boldly, her chin rising.

"Fine," Cyrane spat and raised her glowing hand. "Then he won't wake up!" As Osper screamed denial, the blast seared toward the tank.

Avia didn't scream, she moved, surprising her mother and her uncle when she intercepted the blast. Unfortunately, she had no time to set up a deflection; the blast slammed into her armor, throwing her backwards onto the tank. Thankfully, the plasti-glass dome of the tank held; it could take some physical abuse. Avia's armor was in worse shape; it was blackened from absorbing the energy of the blast. What hurt was her body from the impact of being tossed about. Ignoring the pain, she quickly scrambled to her feet, staying between her mother and the tank. "No, Mother, I won't let you hurt him," she growled, clenching her fists tightly.

"Fine, if you want to throw away your pride for this slave, then you're welcome to it!" Cyrane shouted. "But _I_ am not so callous regarding my daughter!" Cyrane powered up, sending white light dancing over the room.

Avia gulped as her mother began to glow; she didn't think she'd manage to match her mother for long. But when Cyrane came toward her, Avia found that her mother was moving at a similar speed to herself.

Cyrane came in with a simple back-handed strike, intending to overwhelm her daughter with her immense power. But she was startled when Avia swept her hand away with a strong block and slammed her fist into Cyrane's stomach, doubling her over. Cyrane noted that the blow had actually hurt as Avia spun around her sharply, rolling Cyrane over her back and tossing her a several feet further from the regen tank.

"Why are you protecting him?" Cyrane hissed as she rolled to her feet.

"Trunks doesn't need my protection," Avia growled, dropping into a fighting stance. "This is about me and my choices. I choose to stay and I will."

"Is this your challenge?" Cyrane said icily, drawing herself into a defensive stance. No Saiyan was considered an adult until they were stronger than the parent who was the same sex as themselves. Cyrane was demanding that Avia would have to become an adult before could do as she wished.

"Yes," Avia said, feeling worry and elation. All Saiyans looked forward to challenging the parent but most waited until they were sure. When they announced their challenge, their parent usually knew that the child was stronger and simply acknowledged it without a fight. In another three or four years, Avia would have certainly been ready; now, she wasn't sure.

"So be it," Cyrane said and brought her closed fists together, hurling balls of glowing energy at Avia. Avia jerked to the side and snapped her hand up, deflecting one ball that came too close. The blasts were small, but the speed at which they moved was impressive; Cyrane was trying to intimidate her and throw her off balance.

But Avia had spent months training off balance with her brother and Trunks. She had spent so much time flustered by the abilities of the purple-haired slave that she had become somewhat immune to the sensation in battle. Cyrane found this out when Avia snapped her flattened palm at the older Montessi without hesitation, emitting a scythe-shaped energy wave that flew straight at Cyrane.

One look at the energy beam told Cyrane she couldn't deflect it; she was forced to throw herself over it. When she landed, Avia was waiting with a sharp punch. Cyrane managed to get her arm down to block it; in the same move, she swept her forward foot against her daughter's legs, knocking them out from under her.

Avia felt her feet slip and she ignited her flight, letting the momentum from her mother's kick spin her body around until she was hanging upside down. She kicked at her mother's head as her feet neared the top of the arc. Cyrane couldn't block the unexpected move in time; her quick dodge saved her head but Avia's boots connected squarely with her right shoulder, spinning her away.

Osper crouched by the regeneration tank, watching the flight apprehensively. He wanted to help, but Avia had made it clear this was an adult challenge, and he could only wait and watch. A sudden beep from his scouter caught his attention, and he focused it out to the south. The King's signature showed up in the read-out, and Osper cursed soundly. Estimating how long it would take the King to arrive caused him to curse again; Trunks had planned to challenge him as soon as King Vegeta arrived, and it looked like the boy was going to be cutting it damned close.

He briefly debated removing Trunks early, but shook off the idea. If the regen session was cut short, it could leave the boy wounded still; the last damage healed was usually the delicate nervous system, and there were a multitude of problems associated with removing someone early. No, he finally decided, while Trunks would most likely be fine, he wouldn't risk it unless things got worse – much worse.

A grunt from Cyrane caught his attention, and Osper turned back to the fight. Praying to the long-forsaken Saiyan gods, he hoped that Avia could hold off her mother for long enough.

Trunks woke up in the regeneration tank, slowly coming around. Something was wrong; he could feel it. The nagging suspicion in his gut was vindicated when Avia shot past his viewport on the wrong end of a ki blast; it slammed her into the wall on the other side of the cave.

With a curse, Trunks hit the emergency release; with a sudden change in pressure, the tank started to drain. Outside the viewport, Cyrane stalked past the regen tank, her hands glowing; Trunks again cursed the slowly-draining liquid as he watched the fight. Cyrane suddenly ducked under a glowing wave of energy and dove back the way she had come. Avia leapt back into view, her fist swinging through the air where her mother had just been.

"What the hell?" Trunks said as he pressed his face forward to see better.

Osper appeared in front of him and waved at him, then looked at the console and held up three fingers followed by a closed fist. Trunks nodded, hoping had guessed the meaning behind Saiyan's hand signal and that he would be out of the tank in thirty seconds.

Prince Vegeta slammed into the floor of the courtyard, unable to even stop himself from rolling. It wasn't the first time his father had dropped him on the flight back home, but it was the shortest fall yet. When his father's punishing hands didn't grab him again, he carefully lifted his pounding head. He didn't think that things could get worse, but they had; he recognized the Montessi palace's Pit. The War Pit was the traditional place that challenges of succession were fought.

It was also where traitors were executed. Considering that his father had been calling him traitor all the way home, Vegeta was pretty sure what use his father had for it today. Of course, he was in enough pain that he wasn't sure he cared at his point. Oh, some part of him was disappointed; the other parts just wanted to stop hurting.

"Call the people," he could hear the King saying. "We have a traitor."

"Sir?" the servant answered, his eyes flickering to the broken Prince.

"Don't question my orders!" King Vegeta roared, spinning on the terrified Saiyan. "Call the people for the trial."

Prince Vegeta felt fear trail down his spine. It was easier to consider his death calmly when it was still far away. But now that it was here…

The stories that his mother had told him of her first and only true mate came back to him, and Vegeta clung to them. Gyro had died proud and silent, and Vegeta vowed silently to emulate the man who should have been his father. _Gods of Vegeta-sai, let me be strong enough to die honorably_, he silently prayed, wishing that he knew their long-forgotten names. _Watch my mother and my sister. Let them find their peace with honor. And make my brother strong, for I will need to be avenged._

Avia rolled onto her elbow, ignoring the pain that moving caused. She had to figure out what her mother's state was, before Cyrane got the drop on her. _And a note to myself, taking a blast so that I can exchange a better one is not a good idea_, she thought.

But perhaps her strategy had worked better than she had thought; Cyrane was lying in a heap on the floor. But as Avia watched, her mother twitched and began to move. Avia herself bit back a groan as she pushed herself to get to her feet first. She might have enough power to get off another blast…

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, but Avia for once wasn't interested in embracing Trunks. "Let go," she snapped. "If you interfere in the challenge--"

"Avia, the King is here," Trunks said quietly. His arms relaxed as she stopped fighting him; instead she was frowning with concentration as she reached out with her ki.

Avia gasped suddenly, her hands tightening on Trunks' arm. "Vegeta is there too, but he's so weak! What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Trunks admitted, "but we have to go see." A grunt from Cyrane drew their attention; she was struggling with Osper, who was gathering her up. Trunks turned back to Avia with a tight, ironic smile. "You and your mother can finish this later. Right now, we have a bigger fight to attend."

"What?" Avia blinked up at him, so focused on her own fight that she couldn't comprehend what Trunks might mean.

Trunks' smile became grim as he picked her up in his arms. "I'm going to challenge the King. Today, right now, because I can't pretend anymore that I am a slave. I'm the Legendary, and one way or another, he'll acknowledge me today."

Love me – review me! Or not – love me that is; I still want your reviews!


	27. Chapter 25 An Execution

King Vegeta scanned the crowd again, pleased and disappointed that he didn't see his wife or daughter. While he knew that declaring her son a traitor would harden Cyrane against him, some part of him wanted them both to see the price of defying him. Hearing about it would do them both good, but long experience had taught the King that visual punishment was the best way to impress a point on someone.

Prince Vegeta shivered at his feet, curled tightly into a ball, and King Vegeta felt his lip curl in disgust. What had ever possessed him to think that this brat could succeed him? Of course, there was a pleasure in that thought, in the realization that this brat would be unable to best him for a long time to come. But no; King Vegeta regretfully shook his head. He had a duty to perform as King to provide a worthy heir. He had been foolish to hope that this child would grow into that role.

"If only Bulma had been a Saiyan," he murmured softly, tilting his head back to peer at the too-blue sky above him. It was the same color as her eyes he realized with a frown, and he dropped his gaze. The brat was no longer shaking. Frowning, King Vegeta nudged him with a foot. "Don't tell me you've died on me. I need you to live until your execution. Even you ought to be strong enough to survive that long."

His son twisted slightly to look up at him. "You call me traitor, Father," he hissed, "but you are the one who has betrayed the Saiyans. You're the one who has lied, cheated and betrayed everything about this Empire. So when you kill me, just remember that you'll get your punishment too!"

"Brat, the reason you'll never make a good King is because you don't realize that the King is the law," King Vegeta growled. "What I say goes."

"You're incapable of understanding what I'm saying," the brat sighed and dropped his head against the ground. "Just get on with it, if you're actually going to kill me."

King Vegeta hesitated a moment, startled by the bravery that the brat was showing. Yes, he hadn't begged during the beating the King had given him on the way home, but that didn't mean anything – Vegeta himself could remember holding his tongue while getting beaten by his father, afraid that screaming or showing weakness would only make it worse. But now, when the brat had everything to lose, why was he silent? King Vegeta shook the doubts off. He needed to get rid of this cub, to make way for the heir he would produce. Maybe it was time to search for a real mate, rather than continue with Cyrane. After her son was declared a traitor, he was sure that he could get away with putting her aside for another.

"Your Highness?" one of the nobles moved next to him. "It looks like almost everyone is here."

King Vegeta nodded. Cyrane and Avia must still be at the Blood-Rock. It was a pity, but he would just have to proceed. It would have been interesting, he mused silently, to see if they would have interfered in the prince's execution. "Let's get started," the King answered the noble.

Prince Vegeta drifted in and out the short speech his father gave, hearing about every third word. Silently, he clung to his determination to die in silent honor, but he was nearly undone when his father announced the method of execution.

"The traitor will be crushed to death," King Vegeta announced, making sure that his voice carried to the edge of the balcony. Prince Vegeta felt himself hyperventilate as he watched his father smile at the buzz of conversation from the audience.

"You couldn't even make it fast, could you?" Vegeta hissed to the cold stones. He had intended for his words to be unheard, but to his dismay, his father bent down to address him with a sneer.

"It's better than traitors deserve," King Vegeta spat. "And I'm going to enjoy putting a half-breed Montessi out of my misery. And when I'm through with you, no one will say anything as I put your mother aside and find a real Queen for my kingdom."

"Bastard," Prince Vegeta groaned. "I wish that I could be here to see you get what you deserve. I wish that I could see your bond-heir smash your face into the ground."

"That will be a long time, brat," King Vegeta snapped as he straightened up, "much longer than you have." With a flourish, King Vegeta powered up, the golden aura flowing around him, turning him into the object of Saiyan worship – The Legendary.

Prince Vegeta fought not to shake or show fear, but this close to his father, he could feel the awesome power of the Legendary. His father put his foot against Vegeta's right leg, sending electrical impulses flaring over his legs. The prince bit down on his lower lip, anticipating the pain to come and fighting to hold in his scream.

The tortured scream caught everyone off guard, even the King. As the ruler of the Saiyans spun to see who had cried out, a ki blast slammed the sovereign of the Saiyans into the far wall. The audience twisted to see who had fired the blast, and more than one cried out at the glowing figure standing in the doorway.

Trunks lowered his still-glowing hands, staring at the scene before him, his throat raw from his terrible scream. Throwing the ki blast at his father had been instinctive; his only thought had been to save his brother. Beside him, Avia whimpered, "Vegeta!" and limped toward her brother's bleeding form. Her movement broke Trunks' freeze, and he followed her, his eyes locked on his brother. Behind them, Cyrane collapsed to the ground, weak with pain and shock.

Prince Vegeta was curled on his right side, his fists over his ears. As Trunks came closer, he heard the hissing whimper that Vegeta was making. His stomach clenched as he realized that Vegeta was screaming in the back of throat, swallowing the noise as much as he could. As Avia dropped next to her brother and began to cradle his head, Trunks forced himself to look at his brother's leg.

Bone, tendon and muscle alike were smashed flat, crushed under the Legendary's bloody boot. Trunks stared, trying to see how it could be fixed but he couldn't even see that it had once been a leg. He wasn't sure that Bardock could fix this, and his vision blurred with tears as he realized that his brother would likely lose his leg.

"Get away from him!" King Vegeta roared, throwing himself out of the rubble from the wall. "I am King and I have named this man traitor!"

"I challenge you for the crown!" Trunks screamed back, fists clenched and tears running down his face. "By right of arms and strength, I declare that I am ruler of the Saiyans!" The traditional words flew from his mouth, flowing as if he were meant to say them. He had practiced them with Osper, but they sounded strangely right now.

King Vegeta paused, clearly startled, but he recovered quickly. "A slave cannot challenge for the crown," King Vegeta said, waving his hand dismissively.

"My mother was a slave," Trunks growled, "but my father is a Saiyan royal. I have been tested by battle to the level of elite, and I claim the crown as mine."

King Vegeta frowned, staring at the boy. He flashed back on the memory of the day that he had gone to bring Bulma back to the palace. He remembered hovering over her and Bardock as she told her master that she was with child. On that day, he had heard her say that the father was a human, and he had left, heartbroken that she had so easily gotten over him. But if that had been a lie to Bardock, and this boy's mother was Bulma and his father was a Saiyan noble, then Bulma had betrayed him with another Saiyan.

Rage filled the King as he realized that his woman had been unfaithful with a Noble. A slave of her race he could tolerate, but this was inexcusable. "That… whore!" he ground out, clenching his fists as his heart broke again. His rage crystallized until he thought he would shatter from the heat, and he had to act. There was one viable target, not the focus of his anger but close enough. He threw himself forward at Trunks, but the boy moved faster than the King had thought he could. "The human was bad enough, but another Saiyan!" Vegeta choked. "Who is your father, brat? Who did she spread her legs to?"

"You're a blind idiot!" Trunks screamed, throwing a rage-driven punch at his father. The King dodged it easily, but he couldn't dodge Trunks' words. "She never loved anyone other than you!"

King Vegeta froze blinking at the lad, seeing him in a new light. Yes, he had Bulma's eyes, but the boy's face was familiar, especially twisted with anger. But the ridiculous hair, the lack of a tail – how could this be his child? Had he misunderstood the situation so badly? Had he been so sure that she couldn't be carrying his child that he had ignored all the clues?

There was, he realized, one proof.

"So you claim the crown _and_ that you're the bond-heir? Do you really think I'm that dumb?" Vegeta goaded the boy, seeing building anger flash through his blue eyes. "Saiyans can't breed with humans."

"Fine," Trunks growled, "then I'll prove my heritage to you." He turned slightly to his side. "Avia, can you get the Prince out of here?"

King Vegeta scowled, irritated that the lad hadn't taken the bait. What could he do to anger the brat, to completely enrage him? His eyes fell on Avia as she answered Trunks.

"Gladly," Avia said, carefully gathering her still-whimpering brother up in her arms. With her wounds, it was an effort, but she managed, carefully balancing him as she began to limp away.

Vegeta smiled. "Don't go too far, Avia," he called out to her. "I think that you've surpassed your mother, which makes you the strongest woman on the planet, correct?" Avia jerked to a stop as Trunk's mouth twisted into a snarl, but still he didn't erupt. Vegeta pushed a little harder. "When I'm done killing this brat and the traitorous prince, I'm putting your mother aside. And in her place, I will have the strongest woman on the planet."

Trunks started to move forward, but Avia answered, "I will not survive death of my mate, I promise you that." Her statement was calm and sure; words spoken in simple truth. When Trunks turned to look at her, she gave him a quick smile and a reassuring nod.

Vegeta hid a shiver as history played out before him again. He had been a fool. He should have just defied his father and taken Bulma. Now, he had harder choices. He had to know if the boy was his; he had to be sure that this was his bond-heir. He could start the challenge, but if that happened, only one would survive. And while he had to be sure that this was truly his child, he also didn't want to kill him here. The thought that this was his son from his beloved slave filled him with a terrible hope, one that Vegeta needed to confirm or deny. As he watched the two lovers exchange silent messages, he realized that there was another way: a way to make things up to Bulma and a way to give this child his birthright, if he was indeed Vegeta's child. It would even repay Cyrane for her years of service to him.

"I accept your challenge," he said to the lavender-haired boy.

Trunks tore his gaze from Avia, meeting his father's eyes. Sudden fear flooded him as he realized what was now riding on this challenge. Failure had been easier to contemplate when it was just his loss, but now his death would kill Avia and Vegeta. "Fine," he answered, stealing one last glance at Avia. She gave him that bright, beautiful smile and he felt his resolve harden.

Failure was no longer a possibility.

Review – we're almost done!


	28. Chapter 26 A King

The first strike came as he was turning back from Avia. Trunks didn't see it coming; only Avia's sudden expression of warning saved him from a tremendous blow to the head. As it was, he only partly dodged as it instead pounded into his shoulder. Rolling away from the attack, he flipped into air, putting distance between himself and King.

"Stop running!" King Vegeta howled as he shot a bolt at Trunks. Trunks snapped his hand up, knocking it away. The blast had been light, he realized as it shot into the open ceiling of the Pit; the King must be testing him. He would use that; as long as he appeared to be having trouble, he could keep the King arrogant. As another blast seared the sky just in front of him, Trunks smiled grimly. He had an ace in the hole; a surprise for anyone who thought him easy prey.

Cyrane leaned against Osper, her eyes focused on the fight below. It had been going on for an hour now, mostly with Vegeta chasing the lavender-haired boy. _Trunks_, she reminded herself, _my daughter's declared mate._ She shuddered as she considered the possibilities of a future with a half-breed as King and her daughter as Queen. But worse would be the other possible future – one where her daughter was dragged into death by a bond. Avia was sitting on the seat in front of her; on impulse, Cyrane leaned forward and put her arms around her daughter. "I love you," she whispered to her, praying that if Trunks did fall – which was almost certain eventually – that Avia would survive or be wrong about the bond.

Avia crossed her arms over Cyrane's, careful not to apply too much pressure on the woman's bruised limbs. "I love you too, Mother," she murmured as her own body cried in protest from the movement. Strange how just over an hour ago, she had been sleeping next to Trunks' tank, her brother had been safe and everything was normal. And now, she was watching her mate fight for her and her brother's lives while her fight for adult independence was forestalled. She glanced over at Prince Vegeta, worried about him.

He had refused to have medical attention. Instead, he had insisted that Osper bind his leg into a seal-cast so that he could watch the fight. "It is a fight for my life," he had growled. "At least let me see it. Besides, the regen tank won't do anything more for me if I don't wait, and if Trunks loses, then I've just wasted the time healing." Prince Vegeta had grimly propped himself up on the stone bench to watch the fight, and he was still sitting with an intense, pale face.

Avia reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. Silently, though it must have hurt him, Vegeta put his hand over hers, squeezing lightly. His eyes never left Trunks, causing Avia to frown at the younger Saiyan with worry. Her concern for her brother caused Avia to miss the hit that knocked her mate from the sky, but his reaction warned her as well as if she had seen it herself. When the terrible roar sounded in the arena and her brother's eyes grew wide and his face twisted with despair, Avia spun back to the fight. Trunks lay in a rubble pile, bruised and bleeding.

"No," Avia whispered, clasping her hands together. "Please, no." Behind her, her mother tightened her arms around Avia's shoulders, trying to offer comfort. Next to Cyrane, Avia could hear Osper urging the demi-Saiyan to his feet.

King Vegeta hovered like a dark omen over the downed Trunks, his face expressionless. He could end his life now, Avia thought, but he's holding his hand. Why? A sudden thought flicked through her mind. Could it be that he did believe that Trunks was his son?

Trunks gasped in his first breath of air since making the crater in the arena, nearly choking on the dust his landing had thrown up. He had really underestimated the force of that last blow. With a groan, he rose to his feet, feeling the aches and pains of his wounds. He looked up at his father, hanging impassively in the air, and Trunks knew it was time.

With a scream, he threw his head back, calling forth the golden light. It was time to show his father who he was, time to show everyone that he was the heir to the Saiyan Empire. The light rushed into him, filling him with power and joy and soothing his wounds. But Trunks didn't stop when it had filled into him; he kept pulling it deeper and deeper into himself, drawing in as much of the energy as he could. He would need it all to defeat his father.

Sudden horror swept through all of the watching Saiyan as a second sun blossomed in the arena. The audience cried in terror, their voices rising as one as they realized that this _slave_ bore the golden aura of the Legendary.

King Vegeta gasped as Trunks became the Legendary, golden light engulfing his form. This then, was his proof, the key that he had been waiting for to prove that this was his son. _Bulma_, he thought, _my sweet Bulma. I was a fool to doubt you, to doubt our son. And now, I'll make it all up to you, him, to everyone._ Steadying his voice, King Vegeta shouted down, "Well you do seem to have some tricks. But are they good enough?"

"Let's find out, Father!" Trunks shouted as he gathered his ki into an attack. Shouting exultantly, he sent the beam flying at King Vegeta.

Trunks had expected the beam to hit the King, to hurt and to start the long fight of whittling each other down. He was not prepared for the King to drop from the sky, slamming into the floor of the arena with a roaring thud.

The audience went silent as their King fell from one blow. Not a sound could be heard as Trunks moved over to his father, bending over the fallen Saiyan. "Father?" he asked, turning the King over. The damage was extensive, and Trunks gasped at his own power. His eyes picked Osper out of the audience. "Prep a tank!" Trunks bellowed. "We need to get him in there immediately!"

"No," King Vegeta gasped, grabbing Trunks' arm. "No, don't. Just let me go."

"Father," Trunks whispered, filling tears fill his eyes. That surprised him; he hadn't thought that he would cry when he defeated the King. But this was different – there was no preparation, no long fight to numb the heart and burn the blood, only death.

"Tell Cyrane she's free," Vegeta whispered, "and tell the brat that his father is fool. And go easy on Nappa; he's a bit slow sometimes." The sky was so blue, like her eyes…

"Father, please," Trunks gasped. "Now that you know who I am, we can--"

"Play at being a family?" Vegeta chuckled. "Stupid brat. I'm too old to change my ways except in the Oblivion Beyond." The King's grip grew weaker, and his eyes became unfocused. "Any… messages for… your mother?" He could see those eyes now and that flowing blue hair; at any moment, her wicked smile would appear and he could take her hand again…

Trunks was shaking so hard he couldn't answer, holding his sobs in through willpower alone. "That's alright…" Vegeta sighed, his voice almost too soft to hear, "I think that… I can guess what you'd tell her."

The assembled Saiyans watched as their old King died in the arms of the new. They all wondered what horrible changes awaited them under the rule of the lavender-haired King.

Osper sagged with relief and Avia relaxed. The tyrant was dead. With a frown, Avia turned to her brother. "Let's get you into a regen tank," she said as she scooped him up in her arms.

Vegeta didn't protest as she carried him away like a child. Instead, he finally let himself feel the pain coursing up and down his nerves, and he was only grateful when Avia tucked him into a regen tank.

Osper laughed with joy as he flew down to Trunk's side, who was still kneeling over his father's body. "Get up, lad," he grunted. "Time to claim the crown."

"Leave me alone," Trunks hissed, scrubbing at his face. "I just killed my father; leave me be!"

"You have to claim your crown, boy," Osper said, kneeling down next to the new King. "If you don't do it, and do it quick, you'll have to kill someone else when one of these nobles gets it into their heads to take the crown for themselves."

"Let them have it," Trunks hissed, scowling at Osper. "It's not worth it."

"You've paid the price for it," Osper said. "Now, get over it and do what you started to do. Take the crown; change the world."

Trunks sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet. Osper was right; the consequences to earn his crown had already been paid; all that was left to do was try to make his father's death worth it. Staring up into the crowds, the young demi-Saiyan intoned, "By the right of might, I am the King of all Saiyans. Bow to me, and know that I am the strongest in the land."

"You're not even a Saiyan!" someone in the crowd cried angrily, and a growing murmur surged forward from the stands.

Trunks hid his weariness – he had a terrible feeling that he was seeing the model of his rule would follow. Reaching inside, he pulled forth his legendary power while shouting, "I'm half-Saiyan actually. Would you care to make something of it?"

Silence greeted him, and Trunks nodded with satisfaction. _At least it was easy to calm down the masses_, he thought grimly. Eager to get this business done, he said, "Let's get the acknowledgement of superiority going. Who's first?"

One by one, the nobles filled down, a bowed to the earth, acknowledging his superiority. Trunks watched each one, trying to learn their names and faces. All the while though, there was something nagging at him, and he suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Grandfather Vegeta yet. "Where is Lord Vegeta?" he said, interrupting the noble kneeling at his feet.

"King Vegeta killed him," one of the nobles blithely replied. "He tried to argue with the King, Your Majesty, and the King blasted him."

Trunks went cold, frozen by the casual remark. "Father – King Vegeta? Killed him?" Trunks gasped. Next to him, Osper shifted uncomfortably. Of all those assembled here, he could understand best the strange rages that could grip the new King. After a moment, Trunks hissed, "Get away from me. All of you, leave me alone."

Obediently, the nobles drifted away from King Trunks. After a moment, Osper also moved away, leaving Trunks alone with his grief in the arena. It was a long time before he moved to his feet and began the task of ruling the Saiyans.

Cyrane sat alone in the arena for a long time after the end of the fight, after the end of the declarations, and even after Trunks had given her Vegeta's message. She replayed the fight again in her mind, trying to figure something out.

She had been watching Vegeta, not Trunks in the fight, and she had seen Vegeta cease being the Legendary _before_ Trunks' beam had hit him, as if he were sacrificing himself. But that made no sense, especially when she compared it to the Vegeta that she had known for so long.

_Perhaps_, she thought as she finally stood up to join the celebration with her family, _no one knew the real Vegeta at all._ But she even reconsidered that thought when she tilted her head back and saw the blue, blue sky. Maybe there had been one person who had understood him, after all.

Trunks lay quietly next to Avia, filling strange in the big bed. It was somewhat chilling to consider that just yesterday, this had been his father's bed. He sighed and shifted slightly, trying not to wake Avia. To his chagrin, she raised her head and looked at him. "So you can't sleep either?" she murmured.

"I didn't want to kill him," Trunks whispered, his voice tight. "I just wanted to stop him."

Avia ran a comforting hand down his arm. "Saiyans do not stop well. He would have been miserable if you had spared his life."

"Like Grandfather was," Trunks muttered, feeling his throat tighten. "Is it selfish of me to wish that I had spared his life? I mean, he was my father, and I barely knew who he was. I have the stories Mom told me, but nothing else."

"Hold on to your mother's stories," Avia said softly, staring into the flames. "The stories of the sad king are more comforting than those of the brutal tyrant that I will remember."

_Some time later_

Prince Vegeta picked his way up the walk to the Saiyan palace, leaning heavily on his cane. While the regen tank had been able to mostly repair his leg, he had lost both muscle mass and bone. He now had one leg that was noticeably shorter than the other, and it had taken a year of work to rebuild his ruined muscles to the point where he could just use the cane. He would never be able to get around well without it; sometimes, in his more bitter moments, he counted the cane as the most enduring gift that his father had given him.

Just over two years ago, he had been sure that he would rather die than display physical weakness, but things changed. He certainly had, and not just about the cane: he didn't care that he wasn't King. He was perfectly happy to live his days out in his cottage in the mountains. _And societies, even societies such as the Saiyan Empire, change, too_, Vegeta thought with a chuckle, glancing around at the palace. Servants still scurried around, attending to duties, but there was a different air to them than when he had been here last as a child. There was certainly less fear in the air, though the fact that the expected event was to happen today could have something to do with the attitude in the palace.

Vegeta tilted his head back, staring at the pale, sun-bleached sky. He found that he greatly missed the mountains when he was gone from them; of course part of that could be that the Montessi treated him as one of their own. Here, he still got the occasional dirty look.

Everyone now knew he was genetically imperfect, but Vegeta didn't care if that was the cause for the dark scowls. He had come to terms with it, and it was nobody else's business. He realized he was dawdling and picked up his speed, determined not to miss anything.

He met Cyrane just inside the door. She had been at the palace a week, hovering worriedly and getting on everyone's nerves, according to Avia. "Mother," Vegeta exclaimed, grabbing her for a hug. "Have I missed it?"

"No," Cyrane laughed happily. "No, you haven't missed anything." Together, they hurried through the white corridors of the palace, hastening toward their goal.

Their joy was cut short when they reached the doors of the royal bedrooms; Bardock stood outside the door with a strange expression on his face. "Bardock?" Cyrane asked hesitantly. There was something terrible about the way that Bardock held himself. "What's wrong? Has he come?"

"Is Avia alright?" Vegeta butted in, his concern for his sister surging forth.

"Avia's fine," Bardock said tonelessly, "and the heir has arrived."

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Cyrane asked, uncertain how he could be anything other than fine. He was destined to be the strongest Saiyan alive.

Bardock finally looked at them, his dark eyes fearful. "It's a girl. The heir to the Saiyan Empire is a girl."

The End

ARGH!! It is finally done. Yes, I plan a sequel, but I will finish The Grand Prix first. So look forward to me posting TGP soon, and I'll see you all again.

A special thank you to everyone who reviewed, good or bad. I love my readers! You are the best!


End file.
